THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


SIR     PHILIP     SIDNEY. 
OB.  1586. 

PROM  THE   ORIGINAL  OF  SIR  ANT.°MORE   IN  THE  COLLECTION  OF 
HIS    GRACE   THE   DUKE   OF    BEDFORD 


THE    LIFE    AND    TIMES 


SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY. 


••  Sidney,  as  he  fought 
And  as  he  fell,  and  as  he  lived  and  loved, 
Sublimely  mild,  a  Spirit  without  spot, 
Arose." 

SHELLEY'S  ADONAIS. 


Tllllil)     EDITION. 


BOSTON : 

T  I  < '  K  X  <  )  I J     A  X  I  )     V  F  K  I,  T>  S 
IM  nrrc  \A\. 


>KARY 
yjSIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNDT 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1858,  by 

TlCKNOR    AND    FIELDS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  M;iss;irhim>tts 


RIVERSIDE,    CAMBRIDGE  : 

STEREOTYPED    AND     PRINTED    ItT 
H      0.    HOUUHTON    AND    POMl'ANY 


FROM   THE   AUTHOR. 


/"T"NHE  only  noted  memoirs  of  Sir  PHILIP  SIDNEY 
•*•  are  those  written  by  Fulke  Greville  and  by 
Dr.  Zouch.  The  former,  although  the  work  of  a 
contemporary,  and  a  personal  friend,  is  painfully 
meagre  ;  the  latter,  though  sufficiently  voluminous, 
is  incomplete  ;  and  both,  being  out  of  print,  are  be 
yond  the  reach  of  ordinary  readers.  The  lives  pre 
fixed  by  Gray  to  Sidney's  Sonnets,  and  by  Pears  to 
the  Correspondence  of  Languet ;  the  fketches  con 
tained  in  Lodge's  "  Portraits  of  Illuftrious  Person 
ages,"  in  Lloyd's  "  Statesmen  and  Favorites,"  in 
the  "Britim  Bibliographer,"  "The  Biographia 
Britannica,"  and  several  papers  on  the  same  theme 
in  the  Englifh  Reviews,  are  interesting  and  val 
uable,  but  neceffarily  deficient  in  fulness  and  con 
tinuity.  I  have  here  endeavored  to  collect  the 
scattered  souvenirs  of  Sidney's  life ;  to  verify 
every  recorded  fact,  and  to  exclude  every  fiction, 
however  plaufible,  which,  while  gilding  the  ftory 
with  false  attractions,  would  mar  the  higher  beauty 
that  belongs  to  truth. 


6  FROM    THE    AUTHOR. 

If  this  little  volume,  which  is  the  fruit  of  leisure 
hours,  and  of  an  earneft  admiration  of  its  subject, 
ihall  afford  information  or  intereft  to  its  readers,  I 
ihall  willingly  endure  the  criticisms  to  which  it  is 
liable  ;  conscious  that,  while  abler  pens  might  give  a 
greater  charm  to  the  annals  of  the  illuftrious  Sidney, 
I  have  at  leaft  aimed  to  present  them  with  clearness 
and  fimplicity,  and  without  pretence. 

S.   M.    D. 
OCT.   1858. 


TO   MY   SON 

I    DEDICATE   THIS   MEMORIAL,  OF    ONE  WHOSE   NAME    IS   A 

SYNONYM    FOR    EVERY   MANLY    VIRTUE,   AND  WHOSE 

EXAMPLE,    SURPASSING    THE    STANDARD    OF   THE 

AGE    WHICH    IT    ADORNED,    REMAINS    STILL 

BRILLIANT      WHEN      CENTURIES      HAVE 

PASSED   AWAY. 


THE   LIFE    AND    TIMES 

OF 

SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


,N  the  queenly  days  of  Elizabeth,  the  soil  of 
England  was  trodden  by  noble  men,  whose 
-v~   footprints  will  be  revered  until  the  sun  shall 
sild  for  the  last  time  the  dominions  on  which  i 
has  been  said,  he  never  sets.    Bacon,  who  has  left 
a  legacy  of  wisdom  quite  large  enough  to  redeerr 
his  meanness;    Burleigh,  the   serene,  sagacious 
statesman;    Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  the  mirror  of 
chivalrous  accomplishment;    Sir  Francis  Drake, 
the  renowned  navigator ;  Howard,  the  brave  Earl 
of  Effingham,  whose  fleet  defeated  the  Spanish 
Armada;    Spenser,  Shakspeare,  and  a  host  of 
minor  lights,  glittered  in  the  firmament  of  the 
august  Tudor.     No  other  annals  of  sovere.gnty 
can  boast  such  an  assemblage  of  learning,  wit, 


2  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

enterprise,  statesmanship,  and  courtly  grace ;  for 
to  her  satellites,  rather  than  to  herself,  belong  the 
registered  glories  of  Elizabeth's  reign. 

Amidst  those  unforgotten  heroes  of  an  almost 
forgotten  day,  stands  one  whose  brief  and  beauti 
ful  life  was  pronounced  by  Campbell,  "  poetry  put 
into  action" — a  hero  born  to  greatness,  achiev 
ing  greatness,  and  having  greatness  thrust  upon 
him ;  not  the  greatness  of  massive  intellect  or  of 
hereditary  position,  but  rather  that  which  is  the  re 
sult  of  a  perfectly  harmonious  nature ;  the  union 
of  inherited  talent  and  rare  culture,  with  a  heart 
spontaneously  generous,  earnest,  and  true.  When 
we  add  to  this  the  personal  endowments  of  manly 
beauty,  of  stately  presence,  and  of  gentle  speech, 
we  may  not  marvel  that  he  was  the  cynosure  of 
the  court  and  the  idol  of  friendship  ;  that  the  par 
tial  queen  claimed  him  as  "  her  jewel,"  or  that 
famous  men  sought  posthumous  praise  in  the 
monumental  record,  "  The  friend  of  SIR  PHILIP 
SIDNEY." 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  memorials  of  this 
illustrious  favorite  are  so  brief  and  scanty,  espec 
ially  those  of  his  social  and  domestic  relations. 
Scarcely  an  anecdote  of  his  private  life  has  been 
transmitted  for  the  benefit  of  those  curious  to 
know  just  how  the  "  hero"  appeared  to  his  valet 
de  chambre.  But  since  no  picture  is  preserved  of 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  3 

him  in  dressing-gown  and  slippered  negligS,  we 
are  fain  to  content  ourselves  with  such  gala- 
draped  sketches  as  we  can  find,  believing,  too, 
that  the  inner  life  is  often  revealed  through  the 
fluttering  of  state  robes. 

The  castle  of  Penshurst  situated  in  the  county 
of  Kent,  was  the  baronial  dwelling  of  the  Sidney 
family,  though,  long  before  their  name  was  known 
beyond  the  shores  of  France,  its  massive  towers 
and  embattled  front  had  frowned  on  many  a 
feudal  lord  and  rude  retainer.  Ben  Jonson's 
verse  brings  back  to  us  the  echoing  sounds  of  its 
departed  glory — 

"  Thou  art  not,  Penshurst,  built  to  envious  show 
Of  touch  or  marble  ;  nor  canst  boast  a  row 
Of  polish'd  pillars,  or  a  roofe  of  gold ; 
Thou  hast  no  lantherne,  whereof  tales  are  told, 
Or  stayre,  or  courts ;  but  stand'st  an  ancient  pile, 
And  these  grudg'd  at,  art  reverenced  the  while, 
Thou  ioy'st  in  better  markes,  of  soyle,  of  ay  re, 
Of  wood,  of  water ;  therein  thou  art  faire ; 
Thou  hast  thy  walkes  for  health  as  well  as  sport ; 
Thy  Mount,  to  which  the  Dryads  doe  resort ; 
Where  Pan  and  Bacchus,  their  high  feasts  have  made, 
Beneath  the  broad  beech  and  the  chest-nut  shade ; 
That  taller  tree,  which  of  a  nut  was  set 
At  his  great  birth,  where  all  the  Muses  met." 

The  principal  buildings  in  this  ancient  pile  form 


4  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

a  quadrangle  enclosing  a  spacious  court.  Qver 
the  grand  portal  was  an  inscription  testifying  that 
the  manor  was  a  gift  from  Edward  the  Sixth  to 
William  de  Sidney,  who  was  his  tutor,  chamber 
lain,  and  steward  of  his  household,  and  had  been 
distinguished  by  his  bravery  on  the  field  of 
Flodden. 

The  great  banqueting  hall  was  curiously  dec 
orated  with  grotesque  figures  that  supported  the 
roof,  and  its  fireplace,  encased  in  a  frame  of  iron, 
is  said  to  have  had  strength  and  capacity  enough 
to  hold  huge  piles  of  woodr  and  nearly  sufficient 
to  sustain  the  trunk  of  a  giant  tree.  The  stairs 
were  formed  of  vast  blocks  of  solid  oak,  and  the 
floors  of  many  of  the  state  apartments  were  of 
massive  planks  from  the  same  royal  wood.  The 
spacious  portrait  gallery  was,  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  last  century,  adorned  with  curious  and  rare 
historical  pictures,  and  also  with  portraits,  some 
of  them  by  Holbein,  of  the  Sidneys  and  Dudleys, 
and  of  the  monarchs  who  were  their  friends  and 
patrons.  There  were  the  "  counterfeit  present 
ments"  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and  of  his  sister, 
the  Countess  of  Pembroke,  the  subject  of 
Jonson's  noted  epitaph  : 

"  Underneath  this  sable  hearse, 
Lies  the  subject  of  all  verse  ; 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  5 

Sidney's  sister,  Pembroke's  mother, 
Death,  ere  thou  hast  slain  another, 
Learn'd  and  fair,  and  good  as  she, 
Time  shall  throw  his  dart  at  thee,"  &c. 

A  portrait  of  their  celebrated  uncle,  Robert  Dud 
ley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  was  also  then  a  tenant  of 
that  voiceless  gallery.  An  epigram  found  in  the 
Hawthornden  MSS.  is  of  a  less  flattering  char 
acter  : 

"  Here  lies  a  valiant  warrior, 
Who  never  drew  a  sword. 
Here  lies  a  noble  courtier 
Who  never  kept  his  word. 
Here  lies  the  Earle  of  Leicester, 
Who  governed  the  Estates, 
Whom  the  Earth  could  never  living  love, 
And  the  just  Heaven  now  hates." 

Sweet  Amy  Robsart  was  better  avenged  by  pos 
terity  than  by  her  contemporaries.  The  proud 
peer,  whose  art  kept  pace  with  his  ambition, 
whose  guile  was  equalled  only  by  his  guilt, 
whose  vanity  instructed  his  revenge,  who  poi 
soned  with  the  unhesitating  skill  of  a  Borgia, 
and  with  the  precaution  of  a  Catiline  kept  ever 
near  him  the  instruments  for  every  species  of  sin, 
might  well  defy  both  scrutiny  and  retribution, 
under  the  protecting  partiality  of  an  enamored 
queen.  But  the  fair  young  wife  was  displaced 


G  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

in  vain,  for  in  Elizabeth's  heart  the  rule  of  love 
always  yielded  eventually  to  the  love  of  rule, 
and  Leicester  was  left  with  that  crime  upon  his 
conscience,  without  even  the  compensation  of  a 
crown  upon  his  head. 

The  Sidneys  were  an  ancient  and  honorable 
family,  of  French  origin,  their  lineal  ancestor 
having  accompanied  Henry  the  Second  from 
Anjou,  and  afterwards  attended  him  as  one  of 
his  chamberlains.  But  we  hear  little  of  them 
until  the  services  of  Sir  William,  in  the  fleets 
and  armies  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  obtained  for 
him  the  grant  of  Penshurst  Castle.  His  only 
son  Henry,  the  father  of  Sir  Philip,  was  the 
most  intimate  friend  of  the  good  young  king, 
Edward  the  Sixth,  of  whom  Hooker  said  that 
"  though  he  died  young,  he  lived  long,  for  life  is 
in  action"  After  the  death  of  this  lamented 
Prince,  Sir  Henry's  abilities  as  a  diplomatist  and 
a  statesman  elicited  the  highest  tokens  of  esteem 
from  both  Mary  and  Elizabeth.  Historians  have 
cited  as  one  of  the  caprices  of  fame  that  the 
father  should  now  be  remembered  through  the 
son,  rather  than  the  son  through  the  father.  He 
was  president  of  Wales  and  governor  of  Ireland, 
and  in  these  difficult  offices  of  trust,  his  integrity 
and  philanthropy  were  preeminent.  He  softened 
the  wild  asperities  of  Wales  by  planting  there 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  7 

the  institutions  of  civilization,  some  vestiges  of 
which  yet  remain.  It  was  impossible  to  bring 
order  out  of  the  chaos  of  civil  war  and  barbarism 
that  had  distracted  unhappy  Ireland  for  many 
centuries,  but  Sir  Henry,  having  with  Roman 
patriotism  spent  both  life  and  fortune  in  the 
effort,  gained,  like  Valerius,  the  meed  of  praise 
from  the  public  voice,  and  of  burial  from  the 
public  purse. 

England  numbered,  in  that  day,  as  many  good 
and  accomplished  women,  as  brave  and  princely 
men  ;  and  not  least  among  them  was  Mary,  the 
wife  of  Sir  Henry  Sidney,  and  daughter  of  that 
unfortunate  Duke  of  Northumberland,  whose 
"  vaulting  ambition  o'erleaped  itself"  in  the  vain 
attempt  to  enthrone  Lady  Jane  Grey.  The  chil 
dren  of  the  Duke  were  of  course  implicated  in  his 
attainder,  but  from  some  anomalous  impulse  of 
goodness  on  the  part  of  Philip  Second  of  Spain, 
the  clemency  of  his  newly  wedded  Queen  was 
solicited  and  obtained  in  behalf  of  all  of  them  ex 
cept  Lord  Guilford  Dudley,  the  husband  of  Lady 
Jane.  So  unaccountable  a  departure  from  the 
usual  Machiavelian  policy  of  Philip,  must  either 
be  considered  a  mistake,  or  attributed  to  a  desire 
to  court  the  regard  of  the  people  of  England, 
who  already  looked  upon  him  and  upon  his  arro 
gant  Spanish  retinue  with  jealous  eyes.  The 


8  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

exemplary  and  amiable  character  of  Lady  Mary 
Sidney  added  grace  to  her  own  noble  house  of 
Dudley  and  another  ornament  to  the  annals  of 
the  lord  of  Penshurst.  Her  delicate  sensibility 
of  temperament  and  love  of  quiet  and  domestic 
life,  led  her  to  prefer  the  seclusion  of  her  beauti 
ful  home  to  the  glittering  gayeties  of  the  court. 
There  she  offered  an  asylum  to  such  of  her 
family  as  civil  calamity  had  spared,  and  reared 
the  children  whose  lives  were  the  best  tributes  to 
her  maternal  worth. 

The  eldest  son  of  these  admirable  parents  was 
born  on  the  29th  of  November,  1554,  during  the 
reign  of  Queen  Mary,  who  among  other  marks 
of  her  favor  bestowed  upon  him  the  name  of  her 
renowned  spouse.  Happily  the  gift  of  a  name 
does  not  imply  the  transmission  of  the  qualities 
thereby  represented,  or  the  youthful  Philip  might 
well  have  demurred  to  the  royal  compliment 
The  mantle  of  that  eminent  bigot  and  illustrious 
brigand,  cast  no  shadow  upon  either  his  character 
or  his  career. 

His  birth  was  poetically  commemorated  by  the 
planting  of  an  oak, 

"  That  taller  tree  which  of  a  nut  was  set," 

and  whose  bravery  of  verdure  overshadowed  the 
park  of  Penshurst  for  nearly  two  centuries  after 


SIK  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  9 

its  prototype  had  passed  away.*  Many  years 
later,  when  the  tenants  came  on  gala  days  to 
greet  their  lord,  they  used  to  adorn  themselves 
with  boughs  from  this  consecrated  oak3  in  mem 
ory  of  Sir  Philip. 

His  childhood  and  youth  were  marked  by  a 
singular  love  of  learning,  by  a  generous  and 
amiable  disposition,  and  by  that  pensive  dignity 
of  demeanor  usually  associated  with  high-toned 
and  reflective  minds.  The  patent  of  nobility 
was  his,  not  only  in  social  position  but  as  the 
inalienable  gift  of  nature.  We  may  fancy  his 
juvenile  sports  under  the  "  broad  beech  and 
the  chestnut  shade,"  chasing  the  deer,  practising 
simple  feats  of  horsemanship,  or  tilting  in  mock 
tournaments ;  but  evincing  even  then,  it  was 
said,  thought  beyond  his  years,  and  habits  of 

*  "  Sidney  here  was  born  ; 
Sidney,  than  whom  no  greater,  braver  man, 
His  own  delightful  genius  ever  feigned, 
Illustrating  the  vales  of  Arcady, 
With  courteous  courage,  and  with  loyal  loves. 
Upon  his  natal  day  the  acorn  here 
Was  planted  ;  it  grew  up  a  stately  oak, 
And  in  the  beauty  of  its  strength  it  stood 
And  flourished,  when  its  perishable  part 
Had  mouldered,  dust  to  dust.     That  stately  oak 
Itself  hath  mouldered  now,  but  Sidney's  name 
Endureth  in  his  own  immortal  works." 

SOUTHEY. 


10  THE   LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

inquiry  and  observation  that  were  the  marvel  of 
his  teachers.  Destined  for  the  life  of  a  courtier 
and  a  statesman,  no  pains  were  spared  to  fit  him 
for  distinction,  not  only  as  a  brilliant,  but  as  a 
good  man.  Letters  in  Latin  and  in  French, 
written  by  him  at  the  age  of  twelve  years  to  his 
father,  elicited  a  reply  which  is  considered  by  all 
his  biographers  so  fine  a  model  of  paternal  ad 
vice  that  it  may  be  worth  while  to  insert  it  here. 
Through  its  quaint  old  Saxon  is  seen  the  most 
watchful  care  for  the  mental  progress  of  his  son, 
and  for  his  culture  of  true  religion — that  which  is 
of  the  fervent  heart,  rather  than  of  the  bended 
knee.  It  seems  quite  probable  that  this  letter, 
which  was  preserved  in  the  "  Sidney  Papers," 
may  have  been  the  source  of  suggestion  to  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  and  others, 
whose  epistolary  counsels  to  their  children  are 
still  commended. 

"  I  have  reaceaved  too  letters  from  yow,  one 
written  in  Latine,  the  other  in  French ;  which  I 
take  in  goode  parte,  and  will  yow  to  exercise  that 
practice  of  learninge  often :  for  that  will  stand 
yow  in  moste  steade,  in  that  profession  of  lyf  that 
yow  are  born  to  live  in.  And  since  this  ys  my 
first  letter  that  ever  I  did  write  to  yow,  I  will  not  ( 
that  yt  be  ah1  emptie  of  some  advyses,  which  my 
naturall  care  of  yow  provokethe  me  to  wish  yow 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  H 

to  foloye,  as  documents  to  yow  in  this  your 
tendre  age.  Let  yowr  first  actyon  be  the  lyfting 
up  of  yowr  mynd  to  Almighty  God,  by  harty 
prayer  ;  and  felingly  dysgest  the  woords  yow 
speake  in  prayer,  with  contynual  meditation  and 
thinkinge  of  him  to  whom  yow  praye,  and  of  the 
matter  for  which  yow  praye.  And  use  this  at  an 
ordinarye  hower.  Whereby  the  time  ytself  will 
put  yow  in  remembrance  to  doe  that,  which  yow 
are  accustomed  to  doe  in  that  tyme.  Apply 
yowr  study  to  suche  howres,  as  yowr  discrete 
master  dothe  assign  yow,  earnestlye ;  and  the 
time,  I  knowe,  he  will  so  lymitt,  as  shal  be  both 
sufficient  for  yowr  learninge,  and  saf  for  yowr 
health.  And  mark  the  sens,  and  the  matter  of 
that  yow  read,  as  well  as  the  woordes.  So  shal 
yow  both  enreiche  yowr  tonge  with  woordes,  and 
yowr  wytte  with  matter;  and  judgement  will 
growe  as  yeares  growyth  in  yow.  Be  humble 
and  obedient  to  yowr  master,  for  unless  yow 
frame  yowr  selfe  to  obey  others,  yea,  and  feale  in 
yowr  selfe  what  obedience  is,  yow  shall  never  be 
able  to  teach  others  how  to  obey  yow.  Be 
curteese  of  gesture,  and  affable  to  all  men,  with 
diversitee  of  reverence,  according  to  the  dignitie 
of  the  person.  There  ys  nothing,  that  wynneth 
so  much  with  so  lytell  cost.  Use  moderate  dyet, 
BO  as  after  yowr  meate,  yow  may  find  yowr 


12  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

wytte  fresher  and  not  duller,  and  yowr  body  more 
lyvely,  and  not  more  heavye.  Seldom  drinke 
wine,  and  yet  sometimes  doe,  least,  being  enforced 
to  drinke  upon  the  sodayne,  yow  should  find 
yowr  selfe  inflamed.  Use  exercise  of  bodye,  but 
suche  as  ys  without  peryll  of  yowr  yointes  or 
bones.  It  will  encrease  yowr  force,  and  enlardge 
yowr  breathe.  Delight  to  be  cleanly,  as  well  in 
all  parts  of  yowr  bodye,  as  in  yowr  garments. 
It  shall  make  yow  grateful  in  yche  company,  and 
otherwise  lothsome.  Give  yowr  selfe  to  be  merye, 
for  yow  degenerate  from  yowr  father,  yf  yow 
find  not  yowr  selfe  most  able  in  wytte  and  bodye, 
to  doe  any  thinge  when  yow  be  most  merye ; 
But  let  yowr  myrthe  be  ever  void  of  all  scurilitee, 
and  bitinge  woordes  to  any  man,  for  an  wound 
given  by  a  woorde  is  oftentimes  harder  to  be 
cured,  than  that  which  is  given  with  the  sword. 
Be  yow  rather  a  herer,  and  bearer  away  of  other 
men's  talke,  than  a  begynner  or  procurer  of 
speeche,  otherwise  yow  shall  be  counted  to  de 
light  to  hear  yowr  selfe  speak.  Yf  yow  heare  a 
wise  sentence,  or  an  apt  phrase,  commytte  yt  to 
yowr  memorye,  with  respect  to  the  circumstance, 
when  yow  shal  speake  yt.  Let  never  othe  be 
hearde  to  come  out  of  yowr  rnouthe,  nor  woord 
of  ribaudrye ;  detest  yt  in  others,  so  shal  custome 
make  to  yowr  selfe  a  lawe  against  yt  in  yowr 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  13 

selfe.  Be  modest  in  yche  assemble,  and  rather  be 
rebuked  of  light  felowes  for  meden-like  shame- 
fastnes,  than  of  yowr  sad  friends  for  pearte 
boldnes.  Thinke  upon  every  woorde  that  yow 
will  speake,  before  yow  utter  hit,  and  remembre 
how  nature  hath  rampared  up,  as  yt  were,  the 
tonge  with  teeth,  lippes,  yea  and  hair  without  the 
lippes,  and  all  betokening  raynes  or  bridles,  for 
the  loose  use  of  that  membre.  Above  all  things 
tell  no  untruthe,  no  not  in  trifels.  The  custome 
of  hit  is  naughte,  and  let  it  not  satisfie  yow,  that 
for  a  time,  the  hearers  take  yt  for  a  truthe,  for 
after  yt  will  be  known  as  yt  is,  to  yowr  shame ; 
for  ther  cannot  be  a  greater  reproche  to  a  gentell- 
man  than  to  be  accounted  a  lyare.  Study  and 
endevour  yowr  selfe  to  be  vertuously  occupied. 
So  shall  yow  make  suchean  habite  of  well  doinge 
in  yow,  that  yow  shal  not  knowe  how  to  do  evell, 
thoughe  you  wold.  Remember,  my  sonne,  the 
noble  blood  yow  are  descended  of,  on  yowr 
mother's  side ;  and  thinke  that  only,  by  vertuous 
lyf  and  good  action,  yow  may  be  an  ornament  to 
that  illustre  famylie  ;  and  otherwise,  through  vice 
and  slouthe,  yow  shall  be  counted  lobes  generis^ 
one  of  the  greatest  curses  that  can  happen  to  man. 
Well,  my  littell  Philippe,  this  is  ynough  for 
me,  and  to  muche,  I  fear,  for  yow.  But,  yf 
I  shall  finde  that  this  light  meale  of  digestione 


14  THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

nourishe  any  thing  the  weake  stomake  of  yowr 
yonge  capacitie,  I  will,  as  I  find  the  same  growe 
stronger,  fead  yt  with  toofer  foode. 

"  Your  lovinge  father  so  long  as  yow  live  in 
"  the  feare  of  God, 

«H.  SYDNEY. 

If  the  spirit  of  prophecy  had  inspired  this  com 
munication,  it  could  not  better  have  pictured  the 
future  character  of  young  Sidney ;  and  we  are 
told  that  he  was,  even  then,  fondly  called  by 
his  father  "  lumen  families  suce"  the  brightness 
of  his  household.  Trinity  College  at  Cambridge, 
and  Christ  Church  at  Oxford,  were  the  arenas 
of  his  intellectual  labors,  and  there,  in  the  Olym 
pic  strife  with  the  young  and  noble  sons  of  Eng 
land,  he  wore  the  laurels  of  success.  Spencer, 
Raleigh,  and  the  historians  Camden  and  Carew, 
were  among  his  fellow-students,  and  the  latter 
has  incidentally  given  us  a  glimpse  of  his  own 
scholarship,  and  that  of  young  Sidney.  "  Upon 
a  wrong-conceived  opinion  touching  my  suffi 
ciency,  I  was  called  to  dispute  extempore  with 
the  matchless  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  in  presence  of 
the  Earls  of  Leicester  and  Warwick,  and  divers 
other  great  personages."  *  He  early  became  a 

*  Old  England's  Worthies. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY. 


proficient  in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  especially 
delighted  in  research  among  curious  old  books 
and  antique  parchments,  the  exhumed  memen 
toes  of  the  past  The  overhanging  gloom  of  the 
dark  ages  had  lately  rolled  away  from  the  world 
of  letters.  Literature  was  no  longer  a  costly 
myth,  nor  science  the  veiled  mystery  of  the 
monk  and  the  antiquary.  The  student  might  now 
light  his  midnight  lamp  by  the  rays  of  Homer, 
and  drink  from  the  sparkling  fountains  of  Virgil. 
Plato  belonged,  not  to  Greece,  but  to  the  world, 
and  the  Peripatetic  again  walked  the  broad  high 
way  of  common  life.  It  was  said  of  Philip  Sid 
ney,  that  "he  cultivated  not  one  art  or  science, 
but  the  whole  circle  of  arts  and  sciences  ; 
his  capacious  and  comprehensive  mind  aspiring 
to  preeminence  in  every  branch  of  knowledge." 
We  may  add  his  name  to  the  chronicle  of  those 
who,  in  the  flush  of  youth,  have  turned  aside 
from  the  allurements  of  rank,  of  wealth,  or  of 
pleasure,  to  the 

— "  Fairy  tales  of  science  and  the  long  result  of  Time," 

thus  early  witnessing  the  truth  of  Thierry's  con 
clusion  from  a  long  life  of  varied  experiment, 
"  Believe  me,  there  is  no  earthly  happiness  equal 
to  the  unceasing  pursuit  of  knowledge." 

Mirandola,  an  Italian  nobleman  who  lived  in 


16  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

the  fifteenth  century,  was  the  marvel  of  learned 
men  and  the  pride  of  universities,  and,  like  the 
"  admirable  Crichton,"  at  the  age  of  twenty-three 
he  challenged  the  savants  of  Italy  to  enter  the 
lists  with  him  in  public  disputation.  Pascal, 
who  shone  in  goodness  as  in  learning,  having 
been  forbidden  by  his  father  the  use  of  math 
ematical  books,  was  one  day  accidentally  found 
sitting  on  the  floor  of  his  room,  surrounded  by 
charcoal  diagrams  ;  his  irrepressible  love  of 
science  having  led  him,  untaught,  to  the  exact 
demonstration  of  the  thirty-second  problem  of 
Euclid.  When  only  sixteen,  he  wrote  so  able 
a  treatise  on  Conic  Sections  that  it  was  attrib 
uted  by  Des  Cartes  to  the  labors  of  his  father. 
Scaliger,  who  was  deemed  one  of  the  most 
learned  men  of  his  age ;  Lipsius,  the  celebrated 
scholar  and  critic ;  Tasso,  the  hapless  poet  who 

"  Wrecked  on  one  slight  bark 

The  prodigal  treasures  of  his  bankrupt  soul ;  " 

and  Crichton  himself,  who,  it  was  said,  "  wrote 
and  spoke  to  perfection  ten  languages  at  the 
age  of  twenty,"  besides  being  well  versed  in 
general  science ; — of  these,  some  walked  the  stage 
of  Europe  contemporaneously  with  Philip  Sidney, 
and,  like  him,  they  all  aimed  in  youth  at  a  lofty 
mark.  Talent  may  be  late  in  its  unfolding,  but 


SIR  PHILIP    SIDNEY.  17 

habits  of  industrious  application,  unless  formed 
early  are  seldom  formed  at  all. 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  genius,"  said 
Hogarth,  two  hundred  years  later ;  "  genius  is 
nothing  but  labor  and  diligence."  Perhaps 
Hogarth's  own  creative  abilities  and  acute  in 
tuitions  falsified  his  assertion  ;  but  it  also  bears 
the  high  indorsement  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  who 
declared  that  "if  ever  he  had  effected  any  thing, 
it  had  been  by  patient  thinking."  It  was  cer 
tainly  rather  through  "labor  and  diligence" 
than  from  any  transcendent  native  power,  that 
our  hero  reaped  his  abundant  harvest;  and  it  is 
a  significant  tribute  to  the  goodness  of  his  heart 
and  the  charm  of  his  manner,  that  his  life,  not 
only  now,  but  to  its  lamented  close,  was  un- 
blighted  by  the  attacks  of  envy  and  jealousy — 
those  scoffing  fiends  that  ever  walk  in  the 
shadow  of  the  successful,  whether  in  social, 
intellectual,  or  political  achievement. 

Before  he  had  laid  aside  the  academic  gown 
at  the  age  of  seventeen,  the  pioneers  of  invention 
and  of  discovery  sought  the  aid  of  his  discrimi 
nating  judgment,  and  painters  and  musicians 
found  in  him  a  liberal  and  appreciative  patron. 
Every  hour  had  its  earnest  employment ;  but  he 
had  none  to  give  to  idle  pleasures  or  to  question 
able  indulgence.  The  kingdom  of  the  Beautiful 


18  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

was  his  chosen  home.  On  its  heaven-touched 
heights,  and  by  its  pure  streams,  his  young  genius 
expanded  its  glorious  capacities,  sweeping  with 
rapid  wing  the  orbit  of  science,  and  soaring 
onward  with  untiring  eye  and  yet  loftier 
aim. 

Like  a  light  within  a  vase,  the  spirit  shone 
through  its  outer  temple.  Tall  and  finely  pro 
portioned,  with  regular  and  handsome  features, 
hair  of  the  sunny  hue  that  poets  love,*  and  deep 
blue  eyes,  expressive  of  thought  and  feeling, 
Philip  Sidney  went  forth  into  the  world  with 
every  endowment  that  youth  could  covet, 

"  Not  mailed  in  scorn, 

But  in  the  armor  of  a  pure  intent." 

Schiller  says,  "  let  no  man  measure  by  a  scale  of 
perfection  the  meagre  products  of  reality."  Since 
the  best  of  men  are  still  but  men,  it  is  perhaps  a 
pity  that  the  faults  of  this  oft-named  favorite,  the 
shadows  upon  this  luminous  humanity,  are  not 
recorded  for  our  criticism,  and,  we  may  add,  for 
our  encouragement.  The  Egyptian  sculptors  were 
forbidden  to  model  their  statues  by  their  own 

*  "  He  was  extremely  beautiful,"  said  the  celebrated  anti 
quary,  John  Aubrey ;  "  he  much  resembled  his  sister,  but  his 
hair  was  not  red,  but  a  little  inclining ;  viz :  a  dark  amber 
color." 


SIS  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  ]y 

ideal  creations,  and  compelled  to  adhere  to  the 
sacred  measures  of  the  priesthooo^  Like  them 
we  copy  with  literal  chisel  from  biography  and 
history,  without  improvising  even  a  fancy  to 
relieve  the  monotony  of  truth. 


20  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 


CHAPTER  II. 

all  ages,  and  in  all  countries,  whenever  the 
love  of  action  has  triumphed  over  the  love 
of  repose,  has  been  seen  a  curiosity  to  ex 
plore  the  recesses  of  nature,  to  examine  the 
achievements  of  art,  and  to  read  the  chequered 
tablets  of  man's  life  and  character,  as  written 
in  courts  and  in  cottages,  in  palaces  and  in  pris 
ons  ;  in  the  intrigues  of  governments,  and  the 
arcana  of  private  life;  in  the  cabinet  of  the 
minister  who  holds  the  helm  of  state  ;  by  the 
roadside  stream,  where  the  pilgrim  eats  his  morn 
ing  crust ;  in  the  studio  of  the  artist,  whose 
embodied  visions  of  beauty  speak  to  the  re 
sponsive  soul  of  universal  humanity.  To  men 
of  letters,  travelling  is  a  means  of  knowledge ; 
to  men  of  taste,  of  accomplishment ;  to  the  idle, 
a  relief  from  ennui ;  to  the  busy,  a  rest  from 
labor;  to  the  sorrowful,  a  refuge  from  grief;  to 
the  joyful,  a  new  field  of  enjoyment.  At  the 
period  of  which  we  write,  the  intercommunica 
tion  of  travel  was  far  more  restricted  than  at  the 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY  21 

present  day,  both  by  the  physical  impediments 
which  science  has  since  removed,  and  by  the 
manifold  jealous  precautions  which  still  bristled 
around  countries  but  lately  emerged  from  feudal 
ism.  The  social  maxim  of  Rochefoucault — "to 
treat  every  friend  as  if  he  might  one  day  be  an 
enemy" — seemed  still  to  be  the  national  and 
universal  law  of  Europe.  In  England,  the  pres 
tige  and  the  privilege  of  foreign  travel  were 
obtained  only  by  a  special  grant  from  the  reign 
ing  sovereign,  and  generally  awarded  to  none 
except  merchants  on  business,  to  servants  of  the 
crown,  and  gentlemen  of  the  realm.  Those  less 
fortunate  subjects,  who  were  condemned  to  re 
main  within  the  sea-washed  shores  of  their 
native  land,  had  not  even  the  modern  consolation 
of  books  of  adventure.  The  vivid  panoramas 
of  people  and  of  places  that  now  divest  distance 
of  its  mysteries,  bringing  the  Pyramids  to  our 
opera  glasses,  and  the  roar  of  Arctic  waters  to 
our  very  ear,  were  then  unpictured  for  the  home- 
sequestered  millions. 

We  may  imagine  the  hopes  that  brightened 
the  eye  of  Philip  Sidney,  when,  having  bid  adieu 
to  the  venerable  cloisters  of  Oxford,  he  received 
a  license  from  Queen  Elizabeth  "  to  go  to  parts 
beyond  the  sea  for  the  space  of  two  years,  for 
his  attaining  the  knowledge  of  foreign  Ian- 


22  THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

guages."  A  brilliant  cortege  departed  from 
London  on  the  26th  of  May,  1572,  and  he  was 
of  the  number,  equipped,  says  the  old  historian, 
with  three  servants  and  four  horses.  The  Earl 
of  Lincoln,  Admiral  of  the  Sea,  had  lately  been 
appointed  Ambassador  Extraordinary  to  France, 
and  was  attended  thither  by  a  numerous  retinue 
of  the  chivalry  of  England. 

The  resident  minister  at  the  court  of  Charles 
IX.  was  at  that  time  Sir  Francis  Walsingham, 
one  of  the  most  zealous,  faithful,  and  successful 
of  Elizabeth's  statesmen ;  unimpeachable  in  pri 
vate  life,  but  liable,  it  must  be  admitted,  to  the 
imputation  of  unscrupulous  artifice  in  the  public 
service.  To  trample  upon  bigotry  with  yet 
greater  bigotry,  was  the  error  of  the  age,  and 
the  one  blot  upon  Walsingham's  character.  His 
almost  puritanical  zeal  in  the  Protestant  cause, 
deepened  by  exile  in  early  life,  led  him  to  the 
employment  of  every  snare  and  every  intrigue 
that  could  bring  disgrace  and  ruin  to  the  disaf 
fected  Catholics.  His  eighteen  spies,  and  fifty- 
three  agents,  who  were  but  spies  under  a  privi 
leged  name,  haunted  with  ghostly  omnipresence 
every  court  in  Europe,  while  at  home  a  system 
of  social  espionage,  almost  as  efficient  as  that  of 
Fouche,  rendered  him  the  very  Nemesis  of  con 
spiracy  and  crime.  The  Queen  was  many  times 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  23 

indebted  for  her  life  and  her  crown  to  that  "  eter 
nal  vigilance,"  which  is  the  price  of  royal  security 
as  well  as  of  republican  liberty.  One  of  hjs 
most  subtle  schemes  was  that  which  caused  the 
detention  for  an  entire  year  of  the  Spanish  Ar 
mada  in  1587.  This  magnificent  flotilla,  the 
marvel  of  Spain  and  the  terror  of  Europe,  was 
nearly  prepared  for  its  yet  unknown  destiny. 
Like  a  huge  leviathan  slumbering  before  its 
conflict  with  an  angry  sea,  it  reposed  in  the 
sunny  waters  of  the  harbor  of  Cadiz,  waiting 
the  hour  and  the  command.  In  a  private  letter 
from  Philip  II.  to  the  Pope,  the  blessing  of  his 
Holiness  had  been  solicited  upon  the  mysterious 
enterprise,  whose  object,  the  Spanish  council 
were  informed,  should  be  disclosed  on  the  cour 
tier's  return.  The  English  minister  having  learned 
thus  much,  and  probably  feeling  that  in  such  a 
case  "  a  little  knowledge "  was,  if  not  a  u  dan 
gerous,"  at  least  a  useless,  thing,  determined  to 
know  more.  Through  another  of  his  familiar 
spirits,  a  Venetian  priest  at  Rome,  a  gentleman 
of  the  bedchamber  of  Sextus  V.  turned  traitor 
to  his  trust.  The  keeper  of  the  keys  of  St.  Peter 
was  one  of  the  most  acute  and  Argus-eyed  of 
his  order ;  but,  forgetting  on  this  occasion  that 
his  own  keys  were  in  unanointed  hands,  he  care- 
'essly  slept  while  his  cabinet  was  opened,  and  a 


24  THE  LIFE   AND  TIMES   OF 

copy  hastily  taken  of  the  communication  from 
his  "  dear  and  Catholic  son."  Walsingham  was 
soon  both  forewarned  and  forearmed.  His  next 
step  was  to  defeat  the  Spanish  loan  from  the 
bank  of  Genoa,  and  thus  from  lack  of  funds  the 
Armada  was  detained  until  the  arrival  (from 
America  and  the  Indies)  of  an  argosy  which 
brought  the  needful  supplies.* 

An  old  writer  f  says  of  this  subtle  statesman, — 
"  No  one  did  better  ken  the  Secretary's  craft,  to 
get  counsels  out  of  others,  and  keep  them  in 
himself.  Marvellous  his  sagacity  in  examining 
suspected  persons,  either  to  make  them  confess 
the  truth,  or  confound  themselves  by  denying  it 
to  their  detection  ....  Indeed,  his  simula 
tion  (which  all  allow  lawful)  was  as  like  to  dis 
simulation  (condemned  by  all  good  men)  as  two 
things  could  be  which  were  not  the  same.  He 
thought  that  gold  might,  but  intelligence  could 
not,  be  bought  too  dear ;  the  cause  that  so  great 
a  statesman  left  so  small  an  estate,  and  so  public 
a  person  was  so  privately  buried  in  St.  Paul's." 
It  was  indeed  a  disgrace  to  the  parsimonious 
Queen,  that  this  efficient  and  invaluable  servant 
was  during  his  long  and  anxious  life  most  mea 
grely  rewarded,  and  that  his  mortal  remains  were 

*  Lodge's  Portraits  of  Illustrious  Personages, 
f  Fuller's  Worthies  of  England. 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  25 

interred  by  his  friends  in  the  silence  and  secrecy 
of  night,  lest,  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of 
the  times,  they  should  be  seized  by  his  creditors. 
This  was  not,  however,  an  uncommon  illustration 
of  what  she  termed  her  "  great  and  inestimable 
care  of  her  loving  subjects." 

To  this  distinguished  man,  then  at  the  zenith 
of  his  career,  Sidney  was  commended  by  the 
following  letter  from  his  uncle  the  Earl  of 
Leicester : — 

"  MR.  WALSINGHAM, 

"  For  so  much  as  my  nephew  Philip  Sidney  ys 
lycensed  to  travyle,  and  doth  presentlie  repayre 
unto  those  parts  with  my  L.  Admyrall,  I  have 
thought  good  to  commend  him  by  these  my 
friendlie  lines  unto  you,  as  to  one  I  am  well 
assured  will  have  a  speciall  care  of  him  during 
his  abode  there.  He  is  young  and  rawe,  and  no 
doubt  shall  find  those  countries,  and  the  de 
meanors  of  the  people  somewhat  straunge  unto 
him ;  in  which  respect  your  good  advice  and 
counsell  shall  greatlie  behove  him,  for  his  better 
directions,  which  I  do  most  heartilie  pray  you  to 
voutsafe  him,  with  any  other  friendlie  assistance 
you  shall  think  nedefull  for  him.  His  father  and 
I  do  intend  his  further  travalye,  if  the  world  be 
quiett,  and  you  shall  so  think  it  convenient  for 
him.  I  pray  you  we  may  be  advertised  thereof, 


26  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

to  the  end  the  same  his  travalye  may  be  therefore 
directed  accordinglie. 

Your  vearie  friend, 

R,.  LEYCESTER." 

We  may  well  believe  that  the  ardent  fancy  of 
young  Sidney  gazed  with  delight  on  the  world 
of  action,  now  first  opening  before  him  in  Paris, 
the  gay  centre  of  the  civilized  world.  His  were 
the  age  and  the  spirit  to  yearn  for  action  in  its 
highest  and  noblest  sense,  and  if  unable  yet  to 
achieve,  he  rejoiced  to  witness  and  to  learn. 
But,  in  order  better  to  appreciate  his  interest  in 
the  shifting  scenery  of  the  time,  we  will  endeavor 
to  present  a  brief  view  of  its  most  important 
features. 

The  twilight  of  the  middle  ages  had  been  fol 
lowed  by  the  brightness  of  a  new  day,  and 
Europe  now  trod  with  gigantic  step  the  path  of 
progress.  The  discovery  of  a  new  world  of 
wonder  and  of  wealth  ;  the  inventions  of  paper 
and  of  printing ;  the  grand  religious  crisis  of  the 
Reformation ;  and  the  contemporaneous  sover 
eignty  of  four  of  the  greatest  monarchs  who  ever 
graved  their  names  upon  the  tablets  of  time, 
formed  a  combination  of  events  such  as  will 
probably  never  again  be  witnessed  by  the  tenants 
of  our  earth.  The  daring  vitality  of  the  new 
faith  had  assailed  the  bigotry  of  the  old  until  it 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  27 

trembled  with  rage  and  fear.  The  portals  of 
knowledge  had  responded  to  the  talismanic 
Sesame  of  the  press.  The  El  Dorado  of  the 
West  had  filled  from  its  exhaustless  treasuries 
the  coffers  of  the  East,  and  had  vastly  extended 
commerce  and  navigation.  Gustavus  Vasa,  the 
patriot  King  of  Sweden,  had  delivered  his 
country  from  the  yoke  of  Denmark,  and  left 
upon  its  institutions  the  impress  of  his  own 
liberal  mind.  Francis  L,  the  warrior  king  of 
France,  who  even  in  defeat  lost  not  his  honour, 
had  created  in  that  country  a  golden  age  of 
letters.  Charles  V.,  whose  conquests  and  whose 
schemes  had  dazzled  Europe  during  his  forty  years 
of  restless  transit  from  Germany  to  Spain,  and 
from  Africa  to  the  Italian  States,  had  at  last  laid 
aside  his  sceptre  for  a  scourge,  and  his  imperial 
robe  for  a  monastic  gown.  Solyman  II.  slept  in 
a  marble  mausoleum  in  the  city  of  Constantine 
and  the  Caesars,  where  the  cradle  hymn  of  Chris 
tianity  had  long  been  replaced  by  the  muezzin's 
call  to  prayer.  The  voice  of  the  haughty  Turk 
no  longer  woke  the  echoes  of  the  Carpathian  hills, 
or  summoned  to  surrender  the  fortresses  upon  the 
Danube.  The  isles  of  Greece  trembled  not  now 
beneath  his  destroying  tread  ;  and  Venice,  with 
new  joy,  flung  her  marriage  ring  into  the  waters 
of  the  Adriatic.  Copernicus,  Raphael,  Michael 


28  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

Angelo,  Titian,  Tasso,  and  Correggio,  were  the 
priests  of  science  and  the  arts.  All  these,  save 
two  alone,  had  passed  away ;  and  with  the  abdi 
cation  of  Charles  in  1556,  and  the  death  of  Soly- 
man  ten  years  later,  a  new  set  of  actors  was 
marshalled  on  the  stage.  But  that  memorable 
era  stands  with  pyramidal  grandeur  between  the 
semi-barbarism  of  the  mediaeval  and  the  enlight 
enment  of  modern  times.  It  was  a  period  when 
the  human  mind,  after  a  long  slumber  in  the 
toils  of  ignorance  and  prejudice,  in  which  ideals 
of  truth  and  knowledge  had  flitted  before  it  in 
restless  dreams,  seemed  suddenly  waking  to  the 
songs  of  advancing  Freedom.  The  thought  of 
its  own  possible  perfection  seemed  to  mingle 
with  its  returning  consciousness,  and  casting  off 
each  trace  of  lethargy,  it  rose,  eager  to  meet  and 
to  vanquish  all  opposition  to  its  progress  and 
its  triumph. 

In  the  early  summer  of  1572,  peace  prevailed 
throughout  all  the  important  countries  of  Europe, 
although  the  fermentation  of  rancor  and  revenge 
heaved  in  silence  beneath  many  a  placid  surface. 
England,  under  the  administration  of  the  last  of 
the  Tudors,  breathed  the  free  air  of  religious 
toleration.  Cultivating  her  lands,  and  increasing 
her  manufactures,  multiplying  her  fleets,  and 
enriching  her  exchequer,  she  already  felt  the  ful- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  29 

filment  of  the  dying  prophecy  of  her  illustrious 
martyr  at  the  fires  of  Oxford :  "  We  shall  this 
day  kindle  such  a  flame  in  England  as  will 
never  be  extinguished."  The  daughter  of  Henry 
VIII.  and  Anne  Boleyn  united  to  the  coquettish 
vanity  of  her  mother  the  imperious  will  of  her 
father.  Shrewd,  subtle,  and  sagacious,  not  un- 
variable  in  love,  but  irreconcilable  in  hate,  her 
character  had  doubtless  been  modified  by  her 
youthful  sorrows  when  the  prisoner  of  her  jeal 
ous  sister  Mary ;  and  perhaps  by  the  influence 
of  Edward  VI.  of  whom  she  was  the  favourite 
sister;  while  her  preceptor  the  good  Archbishop 
Parker  had  inspired  her  mind  with  a  zealous 
affection  for  the  Church  of  which  her  father  was 
the  first  legal  defender. 

Scotland,  under  the  regency  of  the  Earl  of 
Murray,  watched  the  sunset  of  her  day  of  na 
tional  sovereignty.  Her  beautiful  and  hapless 
Queen,  the  heroine  of  story  and  of  song,  was 
a  prisoner  at  Fotheringay  Castle,  cherishing 
vain  hopes  of  release,  and  planning  desperate 
revenge  upon  the  subjects  whom  she  had  never 
loved,  and  the  rival  cousin  whom  she  had  ever 
hated.  Her  fascinations  of  person  and  of  manner 
had  beguiled  of  homage  every  knightly  man  who 
ventured  within  the  spell  of  her  presence,  and 
her  romantic  position  as  a  woman  and  a  Queen 


30  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

had  unsheathed  many  a  valiant  sword  in  her 
behalf.  But  now,  though  she  knew  it  not,  fifteen 
dreary  years  of  captivity  were  before  her,  ere  her 
graceful  form  should  bow  beneath  the  headsman's 
axe.  Though,  like  Joanna  of  Naples,  the  dark 
suspicion  of  a  husband's  murder  brooded  over 
her  fame,  (a  suspicion  which  in  both  cases  was 
deepened  by  immediate  marriage  with  men  ac 
cused  of  participation  in  the  crime,)  yet,  like  her, 
Mary  is  commended  to  merciful  judgment  by  a 
plausible  perhaps.  Both  were  alike  the  victims 
of  artful  counsel  from  bad  and  designing  men. 
Joanna's  misfortunes  were  the  retribution  of  her 
errors,  but  Mary's  errors  were  the  parasites  of 
her  misfortunes. 

The  vigorous  administration  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  aided  by  the  Cardinal  Ximenes,  (whose 
zeal  and  ability  in  the  double  duties  of  prelate 
and  prime  minister  won  the  reverence  of  his 
country  and  the  plaudits  of  the  world,)  together 
with  the  discovery  of  America  and  the  conquest 
of  Granada,  gave  to  Spain,  in  the  early  part  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  a  rank  which  she  had 
never  known  before,  and  which  she  forfeited  at 
its  close.  Her  prosperity  seemed  a  realization 
of  some  of  those  Oriental  tales,  in  which,  at  the 
summons  of  the  necromancer's  wand  an  army 
of  slaves  bending  beneath  inestimable  burdens 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  31 

comes  forth  from  cave  or  mountain,  or  an  argosy 
of  perfumed  treasures  speeds  over  the  sea.  The 
gold  and  silver  of  Mexico  and  Peru  freighted 
her  ships.  The  commerce  of  the  Jews,  who 
were  a  large  and  well-established  community, 
brought  ever  multiplying  wealth  to  her  cities. 
The  last  province  of  the  Moors  had  surrendered 
to  Spanish  power,  and  the  gates  of  the  Alham- 
bra  reluctantly  opened  to  the  armies  of  the  Cross. 
That  gifted  and  romantic  people  combined  the 
untamed  grace  of  their  native  Arabia  with  a  love 
of  letters  and  of  art  that  radiated  its  solitary  light 
during  eight  centuries,  while  Europe  sat  in  bar 
baric  gloom.  Painting  and  sculpture  were  for 
bidden  by  the  Koran,  but  every  ideal  of  poetic 
beauty  was  embodied  in  their  architecture,  and 
every  known  science  was  illustrated  in  their  in 
ventions  and  manufactures.  We  owe  to  them 
our  arithmetical  calculations,  and  the  creation 
of  paper ;  their  silks  excelled  those  of  India,  and 
their  porcelain  that  of  China,  while  the  swords 
of  Granada  were  famed  throughout  Europe, 
Their  system  of  jurisprudence  was  a  barrier 
against  royal  and  aristocratic  encroachment,  and 
blessed  them  with  an  almost  republican  freedom. 
Nor  should  we  fail  to  observe  that,  while  almost 
the  world  beside  had  lost  or  neglected  the  lessons 
of  Chaldean  and  Egyptian  astronomy,  and  the 


32  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

stars  seemed  only  night  lamps  in  the  vault 
above,  the  Moors  still  watched  the  heavens  with 
philosophic  interest,  calculated  the  eclipses  of  the 
planets,  established  the  obliquity  of  the  ecliptic, 
divined  the  cause  of  the  twilight,  and  solved  the 
reason  of  the  refraction  of  the  atmosphere.  The 
home  of  science  was  thus  for  long  centuries  amid 
these  devotees  of  the  faith  of  Islam. 

Their  history  reminds  us  of  the  comment  of 
Pyrrhus  upon  the  Romans :  "  These  barbarians 
are  not  so  barbarous  after  all."  When  the  avarice 
of  Spain  had  absorbed  their  magnificent  posses 
sions,  it  would  seem  that  policy  alone  should  have 
dictated  kindness  to  the  vanquished ;  but  here  was 
enacted  one  of  the  most  revolting  scenes  in  the 
sad  drama  of  "man's  inhumanity  to  man."  The 
Inquisition — that  red  right  hand  of  hell — sent 
forth  its  demons  to  torture  the  disciples  of  Ma- 
hometanisrn  into  the  love  of  Christ.  True  to  a 
faith  much  loftier  than  such  Christianity,  they 
suffered  death  or  exile  rather  than  recant.  The 
children  of  Abraham  were  victims  of  the  same 
atrocious  bigotry.  It  was  estimated  that  in  one 
year  eight  hundred  thousand  of  this  doomed  na 
tion  were  massacred  or  banished.  As  they  con 
trolled  almost  exclusively  the  commercial  interests 
of  the  country,  the  retributive  injury  was  great 
and  lasting.  After  the  death  of  the  royal  patrons 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  33 

of  Columbus,  and  the  accession  of  their  grandson 
Charles  V.,  Spain  was  agitated  by  a  succession 
of  civil  disturbances  arising  from  that  monarch's 
preference  for  his  German  dominions,  and  from 
his  ceaseless  demands  for  pecuniary  supplies. 
But  notwithstanding  these  numerous  exhausting 
influences,  Philip  II.  found  himself,  on  his  father's 
abdication,  master  of  the  preponderating  power 
in  Europe.  The  Spanish  fleet  was  the  most 
formidable  in  the  world  save  that  of  Turkey, 
and  the  Spanish  was  the  language  of  fashion 
and  of  courtly  parlance  in  Paris,  in  Vienna,  in 
Turin,  and  in  Milan. 

From  the  death  of  Francis  I.  to  the  period  of 
which  we  write,  France  was  the  theatre  of  reli 
gious  tyranny  and  political  faction.  The  weak 
administration  of  Charles  IX.,  and  the  intrigues 
of  his  mother,  Catherine  de  Medici,  for  personal 
dominion,  fostered  the  spirits  of  violence  and 
revolt.  The  houses  of  Guise  and  Montmorenci  in 
the  name  of  the  Pope,  and  the  princes  of  Cond6 
in  the  name  of  the  Reformation,  fought  for  indi 
vidual  power  rather  than  for  religious  principle. 
Every  ambitious  leader  on  either  side  collected  an 
army  of  partisans;  and,  at  one  time,  no  less  than 
fourteen  of  these  marauding  bands  desolated  the 
fair  provinces  watered  by  the  Loire  and  the 
Garonne.  The  Protestants,  infuriated  by  perse- 


34  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

cution,  learned,  like  the  Catholics,  to  be  bitter  in 
warfare  and  barbarous  in  triumph.  The  former 
pillaged  Churches,  and  the  latter  burned  Bibles. 
But  Charles,  alarmed  by  the  ruinous  condition  of 
his  finances,  proclaimed  an  amnesty  in  1570, 
promising  to  the  Huguenots  pardon  for  the  past, 
and  toleration  for  the  future.  The  promise  was 
as  treacherous  as  the  stealthy  pause  of  a  tiger 
before  his  fatal  spring.  The  memory  of  Jarnac 
and  Moncontour  was  only  merged  in  new  schemes 
of  perfidy,  silently  matured  in  the  dark  counsels 
of  the  Italian  Queen  and  the  Duke  of  Guise. 

"  Time  shall  unlock  what  plaited  cunning  hides." 

The  Netherlands  at  this  era  presented  a  picture 
of  intense  dramatic  interest.  Though  forming  a 
portion  of  the  inheritance  of  Philip  II.,  they  had 
never  lovingly  bent  to  the  Spanish  yoke,  and  after 
years  of  smothered  passion,  they  were  now  ripe 
for  rebellion.  The  cruelty  and  oppression  of  that 
haughty  monarch,  in  his  determined  efforts  to 
establish  the  Catholic  worship,  have  no  parallel  in 
the  pages  of  modern  persecution.  His  fitting 
emissary,  the  Duke  of  Alva,  preyed  like  a  vulture 
upon  the  most  industrious  and  wealthy  cities  in 
the  world,  typifying  his  merciless  ferocity  in  his 
statue  erected  by  himself  in  the  market  place  at 
Antwerp,  where  he  is  represented  as  trampling  on 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  35 

the  necks  of  two  smaller  figures,  emblematic  of  the 
States  of  the  Netherlands.  The  same  atrocious 
idea  found  utterance  in  his  subsequent  boast  that 
in  five  years  he  had  sent  eighteen  thousand  here 
tics  to  the  executioner.  The  peaceful  inhabitants, 
whose  only  crime  was  their  claim  to  liberty  of  con 
science,  and  whose  first  trials  began  with  the  edict 
against  it  by  Charles  V.  in  1550,  flocked  by  thou 
sands  to  England,  Germany,  and  France,  carry 
ing  with  them  arts  and  manufactures  hitherto 
almost  unknown  in  those  countries,  but  henceforth 
a  source  to  them  of  emolument  and  prosperity.* 
Meanwhile,  William  of  Orange,  the  silent  hero 
of  Holland's  hope,  wrought  with  patient  zeal 
from  his  own  mind,  and  life,  and  substance,  the 
instruments  of  her  release,  unconsciously  wreath 
ing  at  the  same  time  his  patriot  crown  with  the 
idolizing  affection  of  her  grateful  sons  and  daugh 
ters.  The  signal  gun  of  a  long  and  most  memor- 

*  Among  many  illustrations  of  a  wealth  which  was  cer 
tainly  the  product  of  industry,  is  a  story  of  the  wife  of  Philip 
the  Fair  of  France,  who,  while  making  a  tour  with  her  royal 
spouse  through  Flanders,  evidently  expected  to  "create  a 
sensation  "  among  the  Flemish  dames  by  the  splendor  of  her 
own  attire.  Looking  with  indignant  surprise  upon  the  glit 
tering  jewels  and  rich  silks  of  the  ladies  of  Bruges,  she  ex 
claimed,  "  I  thought  that  I  was  the  only  Queen  here,  but  I 
find  six  hundred  Queens  beside  myself  in  this  place." 


36  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

able  contest  had  just  been  fired.  The  sea-port 
town  of  Brille  was  seized  from  the  Spanish  guards 
by  the  Gueux  or  beggars,  a  combination  of  mer 
chants  and  noblemen,  whose  wallet  and  staff,  the 
symbols  of  their  hatred  and  despair,  now  sum 
moned  to  the  rally,  firm,  true  hearts,  the  denizens 
of  humble  hamlets,  and  of  old  feudal  castles, 
boatmen  from  Zealand,  and  burghers  from  Ant 
werp,  Amsterdam,  and  Leyden,  until  the  canals, 
the  rivers,  and  the  sea-washed  plains  of  the  future 
battle-ground  of  Europe  swarmed  with  heroes  as 
desperate  as  those  who  defended  the  pass  of  Ther- 
mopylaB,  swept  through  the  English  hosts  at  Ban- 
nockburn,  or  waved  in  triumph  the  banner  of 
Switzerland  and  of  Tell  over  the  Austrian  troops 
at  Morgarten. 

To  the  general  reader,  the  history  of  no  nation 
is  more  hopelessly  chaotic  than  that  of  the 
German  Empire  and  its  dependencies,  for  three 
centuries  preceding  the  reign  of  Charles  V.  Pa 
tience  toils  wearily  through  the  confused  details 
of  wars  between  Dukes  and  Princes,  wars  for  the 
elective  imperial  throne,  wars  for  the  sovereignty 
of  Italy,  contests  against  Popes,  and  battles 
against  Infidels ;  Guelphs  and  Ghibelines  now 
opposing  hostile  front  to  each  other,  and,  anon, 
uniting  their  embattled  squadrons  against  the 
common  foe  ;  one  army  swept  away  for  the 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  37 

cross  and  another  for  the  crescent;  useless  vic 
tories  and  ruinous  defeats  ;  now  the  Tiber  bear 
ing  a  crimson  tribute  to  the  sea,  and  again  the 
plundered  towns  and  wasted  harvests  of  Austria, 
Hungary,  and  Germany,  repeating  the  sad  tale 
of  desolation.  The  Reformation,  too,  through 
long  years  germinating  in  thoughtful  minds,  and 
born  amid  the  convulsive  throes  of  fanaticism 
and  of  faction,  kindled  new  flames  by  its  fervid 
purifying  breath.  But  the  elements  were  now 
hushed  in  happy  silence.  The  reigning  Em 
peror,  Maximilian  II.,  was  too  prudent  and  too 
pacific  for  the  strife  of  either  bigotry  or  domin 
ion.  A  truce  of  twelve  years  with  the  Turks 
granted  respite  from  his  most  dreaded  foes,  while 
the  hymns  of  fraternal  peace  chimed  through  his 
extended  principalities. 

But  while  the  jealous  kinsmen  of  Christendom 
thus  vibrated  between  friendship  and  hostility, 
there  loomed  before  them  a  foreign  enemy,  whose 
giant  footfall  reverberated  to  the  remotest  corner 
of  civilization.  The  Turkish  name  had  ever 
been  the  synonym  of  indomitable  will  and 
merciless  success,  from  the  distant  day  when 
the  military  colonists  that  bore  it  emerged  from 
the  table  lands  of  Tartary,  until  the  resistless  tide 
of  their  migration  laved  the  ramparts  of  Venice 
and  Vienna.  We  learn  of  their  selling  forbear- 


38  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

ance  to  China  in  exchange  for  splendid  gifts; 
then  of  their  alliance  with  Rome  against  the 
Persians ;  and  their  affluence  of  barbaric  spoil 
appears  in  the  story  of  the  Khan  Disabul,  who 
received  the  ambassadors  from  the  seven-hilled 
city  in  a  tent  festooned  with  silk,  and  decorated 
with  a  couch  of  pure  and  massive  gold,  sup 
ported  on  four  golden  peacocks,  while  cups, 
vases,  and  statues  of  gold  and  silver,  were  scat 
tered  profusely  around.  A  few  centuries  later 
they  swept  away  the  pagodas  of  India,  and 
overturned  the  caliphate  at  Bagdad ;  and  having 
obtained  by  slow  degrees  the  provinces  of  Asia 
Minor,  they  crossed  the  Hellespont,  and  poured 
their  unfaltering  armies  over  the  Byzantine  Em 
pire.  The  degenerate  Greeks  were  an  easier 
prey  than  the  stalwart  bands  of  Hungary  and 
Thrace.  There  was  small  glory  in  conquest 
over  the  superstitious  people  who  destroyed  their 
navy,  because  the  protection  of  Deity  was  suffi 
cient  panoply  against  infidel  might ;  and  who 
confronted  a  phalanx  of  sabres  with  a  daub  of 
the  Madonna.  But  the  Turks  met  not  every 
where  such  craven  foes.  Venice  and  the  knights 
of  Rhodes  and  of  Malta  wrote  their  own  brilliant 
page  in  history.  John  Huniades,  with  his  brave 
Hungarians,  baffled  them  for  many  years,  falling 
gloriously  at  last  in  the  siege  of  Belgrade.  The 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  39 

perverse  pets  of  Turkish  nurseries  were  terrified 
into  obedience  by  his  name,  as  were  the  Scottish 
children  by  that  of  the  Black  Douglas.  Scander- 
beg  wrested  from  them  by  a  daring  stratagem 
his  native  Albania,  and  aided  by  his  martial 
mountaineers,  long  defied  that  most  redoubta 
ble  of  Sultans,  Mahomet  II.  Three  thousand 
turbaned  heads  fell,  it  was  said,  by  his  single 
hand,  and  when  the  tidings  of  his  death  arrived, 
Mahomet,  laying  aside  his  Oriental  immobility, 
actually  danced  for  joy.  Such  was  the  prestige 
of  this  valorous  patriot,  that  the  Janizaries,  forc 
ing  open  his  sepulchre,  divided  his  bones  into 
small  fragments,  and  wore  them  encased  in 
bracelets  as  amulets  to  inspire  courage.  The 
fall  of  Constantinople  was  delayed  fifty  years 
by  the  capture  of  Bajazet  by  Tamerlane,  but  its 
doom  was  written,  said  the  Turks,  in  the  pages 
of  the  Koran.  The  territory  of  the  Caesars  was 
now  reduced  to  the  pitiful  limit  of  sixteen  miles. 
Monks  and  emperors,  courtiers  and  clergy,  in 
sanely  absorbed  in  political  factions  and  religious 
polemics,  drank  the  wines  of  Samos  to  the  im 
age  of  the  Virgin,  and  helplessly  waited  for 
angelic  aid.  The  Christian  nations  were  busy 
with  their  civil  wars,  or  indifferent  to  the  fate  of 
the  last  stronghold  of  the  Greeks;  and  thus,  when 
the  Ottoman  fleet  triumphantly  sailed  up  the 


40  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

Bosphorus,  and  the  troops  of  Mahomet  unfurled 
the  crescent  before  the  gate  of  St.  Romanus 
only  four  Genoese  ships  came  to  the  rescue  of 
the  besieged.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
Turks  swept  the  city  with  the  weapons  of  both 
ancient  and  modern  warfare — gunpowder,  batter 
ing  rams,  and  liquid  fire;  and  after  forty  days 
the  Hippodrome,  and  the  church  of  St.  Sophia, 
the  treasures  of  Roman,  of  Grecian,  and  of 
Egyptian  art,  and  the  wealth  of  the  Byzantine 
libraries  passed  into  Saracen  hands.  Unlike  Boni 
face  VIIL,  who,  with  the  tiara  on  his  head,  and 
the  keys  and  the  cross  in  either  hand,  had  "  lived 
a  Pope  and  would  die  a  Pope,"  the  last  of  a 
hundred  emperors,  nobler  in  death  than  in  life, 
flinging  from  him  the  imperial  mantle,  died 
with  heroic  dignity  among  the  common  soldiers, 
and  was  distinguished  in  the  heaps  of  slain 
only  by  the  golden  eagles  on  his  shoes. 

Still  fulfilling  their  predestined  career,  the 
Turks,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  were  the  objects 
of  universal  respect  and  fear.  Solyman  II.  dic 
tated  to  the  several  monarchs  of  Europe,  in  terms 
which  though  very  serious  then,  now  provoke  a 
smile.  The  Emperor  of  Germany  he  called 
simply  Charles,  because,  said  he,  "  there  cannot 
exist  two  emperors  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  there 
is  only  one,  namely,  the  Sultan,  just  as  there  is 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  41 

only  one  God."  Said  the  grand  vizier  Ibrahim 
to  the  ambassadors  from  Germany,  "  How  can 
Charles  dare  to  entitle  himself  King  of  Jeru 
salem  ?  Does  he  not  know  that  the  Grand 
Signior  is  master  at  Jerusalem  ?  I  know  that 
Christian  nobles  visit  Jerusalem  in  the  garb  of 
beggars :  does  Charles  believe  that  if  he  were  to 
make  the  same  pilgrimage  he  would  on  that 
account  be  King  of  Jerusalem?  I  will  for  the 
future  issue  orders  forbidding  any  Christian  to 
enter  the  place." 

To  Ferdinand  of  Austria  proposing  to  petition 
the  Sultan  for  a  part  of  Hungary,  the  patron 
izing  Ibrahim  dictated  an  appeal  in  the  following 
terms  :  "  King  Ferdinand,  thy  son,  considers  all 
he  possesses  as  thy  property,  and  every  thing  in 
his  hands  as  belonging  to  thee.  He  was  not 
aware  that  thou  wished'st  to  keep  Hungary  to 
thyself;  for,  had  he  known  it,  he  never  would 
have  waged  war  there.  But  since  thou,  oh 
father!  desirest  to  have  that  country,  he  offers 
thee  his  best  wishes  for  thy  health  and  pros 
perity  !  "  The  effect  of  this  enforced  humility  is 
shown  in  a  letter  of  Busbeck,  the  Austrian  am 
bassador  :  "  When  I  compare  the  power  of  the 
Turks  with  our  own,  the  consideration  fills  me 
with  anxiety  and  dismay,  and  a  strong  convic 
tion  forces  itself  on  my  mind  that  we  cannot 


42  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

long  resist  the  destruction  that  awaits  us.  They 
possess  immense  wealth,  strength  unbroken,  a 
perfect  knowledge  of  the  art  of  war,  patience 
under  every  difficulty,  union,  order,  frugality,  and 
a  constant  state  of  preparation.  On  our  side, 
exhausted  finances,  universal  luxury,  our  .national 
spirit  broken  by  repeated  defeats,  mutinous  sol 
diers,  mercenary  officers,  intemperance,  and  a 
total  neglect  or  contempt  of  military  discipline 
fill  up  the  dismal  catalogue."  * 

*  As  the  centuries  file  slowly  on,  it  is  impressive  to  note 
how  the  battlements  of  pride  and  the  bulwarks  of  power 
tremble  and  fall  at  their  approach. 

In  1844  Lord  Aberdeen  writes  to  the  English  minister  at 
Constantinople,  in  allusion  to  the  execution  of  Christians  for 
their  religion;  "Your  Excellency  will  therefore  press  upon 
the  Turkish  government,  that  if  the  Porte  has  any  regard  for 
the  friendship  of  England,  if  it  has  any  hope  that  in  the 
hour  of  peril  or  adversity,  that  protection  which  has  more 
than  once  saved  it  from  destruction  will  be  extended  to  it,  it 
must  renounce  absolutely,  and  without  equivocation,  the  bar 
barous  custom  which  has  called  forth  this  remonstrance." 

The  giant  has  survived  his  appointed  time,  and  his  de- 
crepid  existence  now  hangs  upon  the  fiat  of  the  younger  na 
tions  who  once  paled  before  his  menace,  and  sued  for  his 
benign  regard. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY  43 


CHAPTER  III. 

ITH  those  genial  readers  who  can  fill 
even  a  feeble  outline  with  vivid  form 
and  color,  interblending  their  own  cul 
tured  thought  and  fancy  with  the  imperfect  tracery 
of  the  written  page,  let  us  hope  to  call  forth  from 
the  misty  past  the  glittering  throng  that  held  high 
holiday  in  Paris,  in  that  far  distant  summer  when 
Philip  Sidney,  having  forsaken,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  classic  calm  of  the  English  University,  now 
studied  a  new  phase  of  life.  Presented  by  Sir 
Francis  Walsingham  to  the  French  king,  his 
ingenuous  dignity  of  mien  attracted  the  fancy 
of  Charles  IX.,  who  testified  his  regard  by  ap 
pointing  him  to  the  office  of  gentleman  of  his 
bedchamber. 

The  disparity  of  age  between  these  two  young 
men  was  four  years,  but  there  can  be  found  no 
stronger  contrast  than  that  which  existed  be 
tween  their  characters.  The  scion  of  Valois 
united  strange  mental  and  moral  contradictions. 
At  twelve  years  he  threw  off  the  regency,  declar- 


44  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

ing  that  he  "  would  no  longer  be  kept  in  a  box 
like  the  old  jewels  of  the  crown."  At  twenty- 
two  he  loved  letters,  and  generously  patronized 
literary  men,  delighted  in  the  mechanical  arts, 
and  often  wrought  iron  at  the  forge.  Music  was 
his  passion,  and  he  abstained  from  fruits  and 
swallowed  emetics  for  the  improvement  of  his 
voice — an  expedient  more  innocent  than  his 
favorite  diyersion  of  killing  animals,  to  watch 
their  dying  agonies.  The  code  of  Machiavel* 
was  his  sacred  manual,  and  the  motto  of  his 
grandfather  Louis  XL — "  He  who  knows  not 
how  to  dissemble  knows  not  how  to  reign" — 
was  his  boasted  watchword.  The  offspring  of  a 
weak  father  and  a  profligate  mother,  born  to 
power,  and  tutored  to  its  abuse,  perverted  by 
false  theories,  blinded  by  evil  examples,  des.ecrat- 
ing  his  talents  to  vice,  and  his  tastes  to  brutality, 
the  most  lenient  look  of  posterity  upon  this 
modern  Nero  is  one  of  pity  and  disgust. 

"  Whether  your  time  call  you  to  live  or  die,  do 
both  like  a  prince,"  wrote  Sidney  a  few  years 
later.  "  As  the  sun  disdains  not  to  give  light  to 
the  smallest  worm,  so  a  virtuous  prince  protects 

*  "  A  judicious  prince  will  from  time  to  time  commit  acts 
of  wanton  cruelty  that  his  subjects  may  appreciate  how  much 
they  are  indebted  to  him  for  not  being  constantly  wanton  and 
cruel." — Machiavel. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  45 

the  life  of  his  meanest  subject."  "  And  as  he  is 
most  wise  to  see  what  is  best,  he  is  most  just  in 
performing  what  he  sees."  "  Such  a  prince  es 
pecially  measures  his  greatness  by  his  goodness  ; 
and  if  for  any  thing  he  love  greatness,  it  is 
because  therein  he  may  exercise  his  goodness. 
He  makes  his  life  the  example  of  his  laws,  and 
his  laws,  as  it  were,  his  axioms  arising  out  of  his 
deeds." 

We  have  no  record  of  Sidney's  impressions 
of  his  royal  patron,  unless  we  accept  these  senti 
ments  as  an  inverted  portrait.  We  readily  infer 
from  them  that  his  pure  mind  suffered  no  distor 
tion  from  the  flatteries  of  royal  favor,  or  the 
subtleties  of  courtly  art. 

It  was  the  22d  of  August,  and  all  Paris  glit 
tered  with  pageantry  and  pomp,  and  rang  with 
festal  glee.  In  the  Church  of  St.  Germain 
was  solemnized  the  marriage  of  King  Henry  of 
Navarre,  afterwards  Henry  IV.  of  France,  with 
Marguerite  of  Valois,  sister  of  Charles  IX.  The 
bridegroom  was  handsome,  good,  and  predestined 
to  the  bravery  that  long  after  made  his  white 
plume  a  rallying  point  on  the  field  of  Ivry ;  for 
he  entered  the  world  to  the  stirring  music  of  a 
martial  band,  his  first  draught  of  life  was  a  sip 
of  wine,  and  with  naked  feet  and  bare  head  he 
sported  in  childhood  with  the  hardy  little  peas- 


46  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

antry  of  his  native  hills.  But,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  the  fair  bride  yielded  no  willing  troth. 
When  led  to  the  altar,  and  asked  by  the  priest  if 
she  consented  to  the  marriage,  instead  of  her 
expected  response,  an  ominous  silence  ensued. 
The  question  was  repeated,  and  Charles  took 
care  to  secure  her  seeming  assent,  through  the 
ludicrous  little  stratagem  of  forcing  her  head 
forward  by  striking  the  back  of  her  neck.  No 
sentimental  union  of  hearts  and  hands  was  this, 
but  the  forced  result  of  profound  political  craft 
On  this  pivot  was  to  turn  the  fate  of  Protestant 
ism  in  France.  That  country  had  long  been,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  battle-ground  of  religious  fac 
tion.  The  Catholics,  led  by  the  powerful  families 
of  Guise  and  Montmorenci,  and  the  Protestants 
under  Coligni,  the  Conde*s,  and  the  princes  of 
Navarre,  vibrated  between  sanguinary  feud  and 
hollow  truce.  Fostered  by  the  persecution  of 
the  two  preceding  reigns,  the  faith  of  the  Reform 
ers  had  spread  rapidly  through  the  provinces,  and 
many  men  of  high  rank  and  talent  defiantly 
exchanged  the  worship  of  the  Host  for  the  study 
of  the  Bible.  Sincere  in  devotion,  pure  in  pur 
pose,  loyal  as  citizens  and  as  subjects,  the  Hugue 
nots  asked  only  liberty  of  conscience  and  the 
privilege  of  prayer.  But,  at  length,  stung  by 
insult,  and  exasperated  by  injury,  the  spirit  of 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  47 

religion  was  merged  in  the  spirit  of  resistance, 
and  they  were  forced  to  the  belligerent  attitude 
of  a  hostile  army.  Philip  II.  and  the  Pope  had 
long  looked  with  malignant  alarm  upon  their 
rapid  increase  in  numbers  and  strength;  aided, 
as  they  sometimes  were,  by  troops  and  supplies 
from  the  Queen  of  England,  and  encouraged  by 
the  ever  manifest  sympathy  of  her  subjects.  The 
spirit  of  reform  seemed  to  rise  from  every  conflict 
with  loftier  and  more  stately  crest.  It  regarded 
the  howls  of  the  Vatican  as  those  of  a  decrepit 
lion  in  his  den.  The  wily  bigot  of  Spain  was  a 
more  potent  foe.  Allied  by  marriage  with  the 
royal  family  of  Valois,  of  the  same  faith,  and  the 
same  unscrupulous  perfidy,  his  inexorable  designs 
upon  the  heretics  of  the  Netherlands  obviously 
reflected  upon  the  heretics  of  France.  Seven 
years  before,  the  Duke  of  Alva  and  Queen 
Isabella  met,  in  private  conference  at  Bayonne, 
Catherine  de  Medici  and  Charles  IX.  The  Duke, 
always  equal  to  enterprises  of  colossal  crime,  was 
empowered  by  his  royal  master  to  concoct  a 
scheme  for  the  simultaneous  massacre  of  the 
Protestants,  throughout  France  and  the  Low 
Countries.  The  plan  was,  this  time,  a  failure. 
The  Queen  Mother,  true  to  her  favorite  maxim 
— "  divide  in  order  to  govern  " — preferred  to  em 
ploy  her  Medicean  arts  on  the  alternate  factions, 


48  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

as  might  best  serve  her  own  purpose  of  domin 
ion.  To  preserve  the  balance  of  power  by  curb 
ing  the  ascendant  interest,  she  lent  her  influence 
sometimes  to  a  Conde,  sometimes  to  a  Guise. 
But  the  Spanish  leaven  worked,  and  the  crude 
thought  swelled  to  consistent  shape.  In  1570, 
Charles  proclaimed  a  general  amnesty.  The  most 
specious  promises  of  pardon,  and  of  the  free  exer 
cise  of  their  religion,  were  extended  to  the  Hu 
guenots.  The  King  said  that  the  august  mar 
riage  was  intended  as  an  additional  assurance 
of  his  sincerity  and  good-will  towards  his  heretic 
people,  to  ratify  the  peace  now  of  two  years  dura 
tion.  All  the  noted  Protestants  in  the  realm,  from 
the  ancient  and  proud  noblesse  to  those  of  recent 
rank  and  reputation,  were  invited  to  Paris  to 
witness  the  ceremony  which  should  absorb  for 
ever  all  party  animosities.  Lulled  into  security 
by  these  plausible  professions,  they  now  thronged 
the  gay  city  in  vast  and  joyous  companies,  and 
fearlessly  mingled  in  its  nuptial  revelries.  Fetes, 
dances,  and  masked  balls  filled  with  Circean 
draughts  the  intoxicated  nights;  tournaments 
and  other  equestrian  sports  chased  the  fleeting 
days.  The  Louvre  offered  its  fascinations  to 
the  veteran  soldiers  of  hard-fought  battles ; 
youthful  cavaliers  won  new  conquests  among 
the  flirting  beauties,  who,  adorned  with  huge 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  49 

fardin gales,  tortuous  stays,  and  Spanish  cosmet 
ics,  came  in  highborn  dignity  something  short 
of  the  English  ladies  of  the  same  period.  Here 
stood  a  stately  group  of  Huguenot  lords,  talking 
in  low  tones  of  the  recent  defeat  at  Mons  of 
brave  Count  Louis  of  Nassau,  and  mourning 
that  the  aid  kindly  sent  by  their  king  had  failed 
against  Spanish  guile.  And  there  were  men  of 
letters  clustered  around  Ronsard  and  Montaigne  ;• 
and  here,  again,  was  the  English  minister  Wal- 
singham,  placid  and  composed  as  ever,  but  men 
tally  striving  to  divine  what  new  intrigue  could 
be  hidden  beneath  this  fantastic  show.  The  Lords 
Burleigh  and  Leicester  had  been  invited  by  the 
King,  but  fortunately  stayed  away,  for  it  was 
shrewdly  guessed  afterward,  that  two  so  powerful 
Protestants  had  been  better  off  across  the  Chan 
nel  than  in  the  treacherous  atmosphere  of  Paris. 
Sidney  looked  with  charmed  eye  upon  this 
rare  assemblage  of  princely  personages,  most  of 
whom,  though  but  few  years  older  than  himself, 
had  already  achieved  distinction  in  either  camp 
or  court.  Men,  in  that  day,  entered  early  on  the 
duties  of  active  life.  Assassination,  war,  and 
unskilful  medical  science,  swept  rapidly  through 
the  ranks  of  manhood,  and  youth  was  summoned 
to  the  vacancy.  Sir  Henry  Sidney,  as  his  son 
remembered,  had  been  sent  on  a  mission  to 

4 


50  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

France,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one.  First  in  this 
brilliant  throng,  was  Henry  of  Navarre,  with  his 
suite  of  eight  hundred  gentlemen. 

"  Oh  was  there  ever  such  a  knight,  in  friendship  or  in  war, 
As  our  Sovereign  Lord,  King  Henry,  the  soldier  of  Navarre." 

The  magnetism  which  attracts  two  kindred 
natures,  revealing  to  each  the  mental  harmony 
unobserved  by  others,  drew  silently  its  mysterious 
cords  around  the  youthful  Sidney  and  the  gallant 
prince.  A  true  friendship,  merging  in  its  sweet 
solvent  all  exterior  distinctions,  was  formed  be 
tween  them,  and  perpetuated  through  life. 

"  See,  thro'  plots  and  counterplots — 
Thro'  gain  and  loss — thro'  glory  and  disgrace — 
Along  the  plains  where  passionate  Discord  rears 
Eternal  Babel — still  the  holy  stream 
Of  human  happiness  glides  on  ! " 

Sidney  doubtless  met  the  Admiral  Coligni,  the 
stanch  old  champion  of  the  faith  he  loved,  and 
the  indomitable  leader  of  its  armies,  long  hon 
ored  with  high  trust,  but  preserving  through  his 
integrity  and  hospitality  the  narrow  limit  of  his 
ancestral  acres.  The  thoughtful  Prince  of  Conde, 
cousin  of  Navarre,  was  another  Huguenot  of 
note;  Montgomery,  too,  who  perhaps  felt  little 
pleasure  in  the  revels  of  the  court,  since  his  fatal 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  51 

lance  had  pierced  the  golden  visor  of  Henry  II., 
in  a  tournament,  twelve  years  before.  In  Mornay 
Du  Plessis,  who,  though  only  twenty-three  years 
old,  was  already  distinguished  for  his  learning, 
his  sagacity,  and  his  bold  defence  of  Protestantism, 
Sidney  found  another  friend.  These  grave  men, 
and  others  there,  eyed  with  distrust  the  ostenta 
tious  gayeties  thus  forced  upon  them,  and  some 
times  thought,  perhaps,  that  Catholic  faith  to 
heretics  might  resemble  that  of  the  Milanese  to 
Frederick  Barbarossa, — "  Remember,  if  you  have 
our  oath,  we  have  not  sworn  to  keep  it." 

Conspicuous  on  the  other  side  were  the  military 
stars, — De  Retz,  De  Ferriere,  and  the  Marshal 
Tavannes,  whose  heroic  feats  at  the  battle  of 
E-enti  so  delighted  Francis  I.,  that,  rushing 
through  the  heat  and  smoke  of  the  engagement, 
he  tore  from  his  own  neck  the  order  of  St.  Michael, 
and  threw  it  around  that  of  his  brave  general. 
Yet  more  prominent  was  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  the 
hero  of  Jarnac  and  Moncontour,  and  recently,  at 
the  instance  of  his  ambitious  mother,  a  suitor  of 
Queen  Elizabeth — a  reluctant  suitor,  too,  for 
her  midsummer  charms  seemed  to  his  nineteen 
springs  a  distasteful  incumbrance  upon  the  crown 
of  England.  But  preeminent  among  them  all, 
was  the  stately  and  handsome  Duke  of  Guise, 
one  of  the  most  keen  and  daring  spirits  of  the 


52  THE   LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

day,  having  numbered  only  twenty-two  years,  but 
already  renowned  for  his  skilful  defence  of  Poictiers, 
and  a  perfect  representative  of  his  bold,  turbulent, 
and  ambitious  family.*  The  keystone  of  this 

*  Several  stories  are  told  of  this  Duke  of  Guise,  illustra 
tive  of  his  imperious  will  and  unfaltering  decision  of  character. 
He  had  married  a  princess  of  Cleves,  equally  remarkable  for 
her  beauty  and  her  levity.  The  patience  of  the  Duke  and 
the  faith  of  the  public  having  been  considerably  transcended 
in  the  very  empresse  regard  between  herself  and  a  young 
man  named  St.  Maigrin,  she  was  requested  by  her  husband 
to  decline  attending  a  ball  and  supper  given  by  the  Queen- 
Mother,  in  which  the  ladies  of  the  court  were  to  be  served  by 
their  favourite  cavaliers,  dressed  in  the  livery  of  their  mis 
tresses.  The  Duke  reasonably  suggested  that  additional 
scandal  might  arise  from  the  presence  of  the  Duchess  under 
the  escort  of  St.  Maigrin,  and  earnestly  desired  her  to  remain 
at  home.  The  obstinate  beauty — much  like  those  of  a  later 
day — persisted  in  going  to  the  ball,  and  did  not  return  until 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning.  She  had  just  sought  repose  in 
bed,  when  the  door  very  slowly  opened,  and  her  irate  lord 
deliberately  walked  in,  followed  by  an  aged  servant,  bearing 
a  bowl  of  broth.  Locking  the  door,  he  solemnly  advanced  to 
the  bedside,  and  addressed  her  in  portentous  tones :  "  Mad 
ame,  although  you  refused  last  night  to  do  what  I  desired,  you 
shall  do  it  now.  Your  dancing  must  have  heated  you  a  little, 
and  I  insist  upon  your  instantly  drinking  this  broth  that  I 
have  prepared  for  you."  The  Duchess  burst  into  tears,  and 
feeling  that  the  poisoned  chalice,  as  she  supposed  it  to  be,  was 
inevitable,  begged  the  privilege  of  seeing  her  confessor. 
This  was  refused  by  the  Duke,  who  having  compelled  her  to 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  53 

social  arch  was  Catherine  de  Medici.  The 
craft  of  her  country,  the  pride  of  her  family,  her 
own  thirst  for  power,  her  reckless  will,  her  placid 
dissimulation,  were  painted  in  her  fine,  well-pro- 
swallow  the  draught,  left  the  room,  again  locking  the  door. 
After  four  hours  he  returned.  "  I  fear,"  said  he,  in  a  softened 
tone,  "  that  you  have  passed  these  hours  unpleasantly.  I  also 
fear  that  I  have  been  the  cause.  Judge  then  of  all  the  hours 
that  you  have  made  me  spend  as  unpleasantly  as  these.  Be 
comforted,  however.  You  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  am  willing 
in  my  turn  to  believe  that  I  have  nothing  to  apprehend.  But 
for  the  future,  if  you  please,  we  will  avoid  playing  these  little 
tricks  upon  each  other." 

The  Duke  was  once  setting  out  on  a  dangerous  expedition, 
when  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Mayenne,  urged  him  to  delib 
erate.  "  Brother,"  replied  he,  "  be  assured  that  what  I  could 
not  resolve  upon  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  could  never  resolve 
upon,  though  I  were  to  spend  my  whole  life  in  the  effort." 

Dancing  one  night  at  the  Louvre,  a  lady  said  to  him,  in  a 
low  tone,  "  It  is  really  very  fine  for  you  to  be  amusing  your 
self  here,  when  your  enemies  are  taking  from  you  the  town 
of  Meaux."  Startled  by  the  news,  he  yet  preserved  his  self- 
possession,  and  having  learned  all  he  could  from  his  fair  in 
formant,  who  was  in  the  secrets  of  the  opposite  party,  he  ordered 
one  of  his  officers  in  waiting  to  have  ready  for  him,  at  the 
Hotel  de  Guise,  a  fleet  Arabian  horse.  Dancing  until  the  ball 
was  over,  he  then  went  home,  and  to  bed,  quietly  dismissing 
his  attendants.  As  soon  as  they  had  left  him,  he  rose,  and 
mounting  his  steed,  rode  to  Meaux,  a  distance  of  thirty  miles. 
He  found  the  city  in  confusion,  and  his  partisans  in  prison, 
but  hastily  collecting  his  soldiers,  he  released  the  prisoners, 


54  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

nounced  features,  and  spoke  in  every  movement 
of  her  queenly  form.  Uniting:,  like  her  son,  odd 
contrasts  of  taste  and  employment,  she  was  a 
liberal  patroness  of  literature  and  the  arts,  excelled 
in  conversation,  and  was  equally  devoted  to  em 
broidery  and  intrigue.  France  had  been  happier 
if  the  Queen  Regent  had  contented  herself  with 
plots  in  silk  and  conspiracies  in  tapestry,  and  the 
device  on  the  ship  that  landed  her  at  Marseilles  as 
the  bride  of  Henry  II.  (representing  the  sun,  with 
the  motto  underneath,  "  I  bring  light,  and  fine 
weather,")  had  been  a  less  bitter  jest.  She  pos 
sessed  the  restless,  vindictive  cruelty,  without  the 
courage,  of  Brunehaut  of  Austrasia,  but  her  mas 
ter  passion  was  the  love  of  dominion.  Her 
ascendency  over  the  young  king  was  as  absolute 
as  that  of  Blanche  of  Castile  over  St.  Louis ;  not 
that  Charles  gave  to  her  either  affection  or  esteem, 
but  that,  to  a  mind  at  once  unreasoning,  timid, 
fitful,  and  impatient,  concession  was  easier  than 

and  harangued  the  citizens  in  the  market  place  with  so  happy 
a  mingling  of  command  and  persuasion  that,  like  Richard  II. 
in  Wat  Tyler's  insurrection,  he  swayed  the  rebels  to  his 
absolute  control. 

His  abilities  and  popularity  afterwards  excited  the  jealousy 
of  Henry  III.,  who  ordered  his  assassination,  and  exclaimed,  as 
he  saw  his  majestic  form  rigid  in  death,  "  Mon  Dieu,  comme 
il  est  grand,  etant  mort !  " 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  55 

resistance.  "  I  know  not  whom  to  trust,"  said  the 
hapless  sovereign,  "  my  secretaries  of  state  are  not 
faithful  to  me ;  the  Comte  de  Retz  is  a  Spaniard ; 
my  brother  Anjou  is  full  of  Italian  deceit;  my 
mother,  of  turbulent  self-will."  He  might  have 
learned  the  negative  lesson — whom  not  to  trust — 
from  Philip  Sidney,  whose  keen  observation 
gathered  from  these  motley  scenes  many  a  note 
for  future  thought.  "  Take  heed,"  said  he,  "  how 
you  place  your  confidence  upon  any  other  ground 
than  proof  of  virtue.  Neither  length  of  acquaint 
ance,  mutual  secrecy,  nor  height  of  benefits,  can 
bind  a  vicious  heart;  no  man  being  good  to 
others  that  is  not  good  in  himself." 

When  Pius  V.  sent  his  legate  to  remonstrate 
with  the  French  king  on  the  marriage  of  his 
sister  with  a  heretic,  the  latter  taking  from  his 
finger  a  diamond  ring,  and  giving  it  to  the  mes 
senger,  replied,  "  I  wish  that  I  could  explain  my 
purpose  now ;  but  his  Holiness  will  one  day  be 
the  first  to  praise  my  piety  and  zeal."  Younger 
in  treachery  than  his  mother  and  her  confed 
erates,  Charles  had  regarded  with  horror  the 
proposed  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew. 

"  The  colour  of  the  king  did  come  and  go 
Between  his  purpose  and  his  conscience." 

Maddened  by  taunt,  and  overpowered  by  en- 


56  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

treaty,  the  latent  demon  at  last  came  forth. 
"  I  consent,"  he  cried,  "  but  let  not  a  single 
Huguenot  remain  alive,  to  reproach  me  with 
the  deed." 

In  due  time,  all  the  Catholics  in  Paris  were  in 
the  secret,  and  never  was  secret  better  kept.  It 
seems  strange  that  no  friend  or  kinsman  should 
have  relented  at  last,  to  save  the  innocent  and 
the  dear ;  but  no  cruelty  is  so  remorseless  as  the 
cruelty  of  the  bigot.  The  provost  of  Paris,  and 
his  principal  officers,  were  at  first  obstinate  in 
resistance  to  the  scheme,  but  were  soon  awed  by 
the  threats  of  Tavannes.  The  sky  was  not  all 
sunny  to  the  doomed  Protestants.  Clouds  of 
gloom  and  distrust  hung  darkly  in  the  distance, 
visible  to  prescient  eyes,  and  heralded  by  warn 
ing  voices.  Against  counsel,  menace,  and  en 
treaty,  the  King  of  Navarre  sought  his  promised 
bride  :  remonstrances  and  prayers  followed  Col- 
igni  to  the  very  gates  of  Paris.  As  the  latter 
bade  adieu  to  his  wife  at  Chatillon,  one  of  his 
faithful  peasants  fell  at  his  feet, — "  Oh  good 
master,  why  will  you  throw  yourself  away?  I 
shall  never  see  you  again !  You  will  die,  and 
all  who  go  with  you."  A  captain  of  Langorain, 
who  accompanied  him  thither,  took  his  leave  in 
a  few  days  with  the  ominous  suggestion,  "  There 
is  too  much  caressing  here.  I  had  rather  be  safe 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  57 

with  fools,  than  perish  with  those  who  think 
themselves  wise."  Although  to  these  prophetic 
surmises  was  added  the  startling  suspicion  that 
the  recent  death  of  Jeanne  of  Navarre,  mother 
of  the  king,  resulted  from  the  poisoned  odor  of 
a  pair  of  gloves  bought  from  Rene*,  the  perfumer 
of  Catherine  de  Medici,  and  the  fact  of  an  at 
tempt  upon  Coligni's  own  life,  by  a  pistol  fired 
into  his  carriage, — yet  the  good  Admiral  was 
entirely  assured  by  the  flatteries  of  Charles. 
"  He  could  not  believe  in  perfidy  at  twenty- 
two,"  says  Martin  ;  "  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
virtues  implanted  by  nature  had  gradually  van 
quished  the  evils  of  education,  and  that  the  blood 
of  a  noble  warrior  race  spoke  more  loudly  than 
the  lessons  of  Birague  and  Des  Gondi."  Mean 
while,  this  sck>n  of  "  a  noble  warrior  race " 
rehearsed  the  anticipated  excitement  of  St.  Bar 
tholomew  in  a  daily  massacre  of  rabbits,  and 
each  night  he  met  in  secret  conclave  the  master 
tragedians  of  the  infernal  drama  thus  contemp 
tibly  typified.  Anjou,  Angouleme,  the  Duke  of 
Guise,  and  the  Queen  Mother,  with  her  four 
intimate  counsellors — De  Retz,  Tavannes,  De 
Nevers,  and  Birague — stole  from  midnight  mirth 
to  midnight  murder ; — one  hour  figuring  in  the 
mask  of  folly  and  the  next  in  that  of  crime  ; 
and,  as  hilarious  voices  rang  through  echoing 


58  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

corridors  and  gorgeous  salons,  deep  bitter  tones 
in  an  upper  chamber  breathed  the  doom  of  the 
revellers  below. 

The  fatal  hour  approached.  It  was  Sunday 
eve,  and  just  six  days  after  the  royal  marriage. 
The  Catholic  citizens,  marked  by  a  white  scarf 
upon  the  left  arm  and  a  white  cross  upon  the 
hat,  were  assembled  at  midnight  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville.  Twelve  hundred  arquebusiers  were  dis 
tributed  along  the  Seine,  through  the  streets  and 
in  the  Huguenot  quarter.  The  Duke  of  Guise, 
frenzied  with  the  memory  of  his  father's  fate, 
with  hatred  for  his  natural  enemies,  the  heretics, 
and  with  ambition  as  the  great  Catholic  leader, 
commanded  the  deadly  brigade. 

The  king  retired  to  his  room  attended  by  sev 
eral  Protestant  lords.  He  could  not  stifle  a 
reluctant  pang  as  he  looked  upon  these  brave 
and  genial  companions,  and  especially  Roche- 
foucault,  with  whom  he  often  laughed  and  jested 
until  night  waned  into  morning.  He  would 
have  persuaded  him  to  remain  in  the  safety  of 
the  royal  chamber.  But  Rochefoucault,  little 
dreaming  the  penalty  of  refusal,  declined  the  in 
vitation,  and,  with  edifying  piety,  the  King  ex 
claimed  as  he  departed,  "  I  see  God  wills  that 
he  should  perish  ! "  In  the  chamber  of  Catherine 
de  Medici,  as  the  Queen  of  Navarre  offered  the 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  59 

good-night  kiss  to  her  sister,  the  Duchess  of 
Lorraine,  the  latter  burst  into  tears,  and  passion 
ately  exclaimed,  "  My  sister,  do  not  go  !  "  The 
Queen  Mother  frowned,  and  calling  the  Duchess 
aside,  forbade  her  to  detain  her  sister.  "  You 
will  sacrifice  her,"  cried  the  Duchess;  "if  any 
thing  is  discovered,  they  will  take  revenge  on 
her."  "  Whatever  happens"  was  the  answer,  " she 
must  go,  lest  her  stay  excite  suspicion."  Thus 
were  the  sweet  charities  of  love  sacrificed  on  the 
altar  of  hate. 

The  fearful  parts  had  all  been  assigned.  The 
players  waited,  in  mute  suspense,  the  signal  stroke 
of  the  great  clock  of  St.  Germain  PAuxerrois. 
The  secret  council  were  assembled  for  the  last 
time;  the  plot  was  finished;  and,  with  suppressed 
tones  and  furtive  glances,  they  too  listened  for 
the  knell  of  death.  The  city  lay  hushed  in  that 
oppressive  stillness  which  precedes  a  hurricane — 
the  victims,  in  unsuspecting  sleep,  the  execution 
ers,  on  stealthy  guard.  Suddenly  one  deep  vibra 
tion  of  the  ponderous  bell  broke  upon  the  silent 
air,  followed  by  the  sharp  sound  of  a  pistol. 
The  lingering  spark  of  humanity  in  the  wretched 
king  now  flickered  in  expiring  light. 


"  He  started,  like  a  guilty  thing, 
Upon  a  fearful  summons." 


60  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

In  trembling  repentance,  he  sped  a  messengei 
to  the  Hotel  de  Guise,  to  recall  the  mandate.  It 
was  too  late.  Already  the  fiery  Duke  paced  the 
court  below  Coligni's  window,  impatient  for  the 
tidings  of  his  death.  "  It  is  God  that  calls  us," 
said  the  good  Admiral  to  his  terrified  attendants, 
as  the  clash  of  arms  and  the  fierce  shouts  of  men 
broke  upon  their  slumbers ;  "  I  have  long  been 
ready  to  die  ;  save  yourselves,  if  possible." 
"  Besme ! "  cried  Guise  to  the  German  assassin, 
"  have  you  finished  ?  Then  throw  him  from  the 
window  that  we  may  see  for  ourselves."  "  Cour 
age,  friends,"  shouted  Angouleme,  as  he  spurned 
the  mangled  body  with  his  foot ;  "  we  have 
begun  well,  let  us  also  finish  well."  Thus  fell 
one  of  the  best  and  bravest  heroes  of  the  age. 
Eminent,  like  Martinuzzi  of  Hungary,  as  a 
patriot  and  a  soldier,  he  met  a  similar  death  with 
equal  intrepidity. 

The  Comte  de  Rochefoucault  was  roused  by 
a  heavy  knock  upon  his  door;  and,  six  masked 
men  entering,  he  fancied  that  the  King,  in  frolic 
mood,  was  visiting  him  in  disguise.  His  merry 
question  was  answered  by  a  dagger  buried  in  his 
heart.  Teligni,  son-in-law  of  the  Admiral,  brave 
and  universally  beloved,  sought  refuge  on  a 
roof.  He  was  pursued  by  some  of  the  courtiers, 
but  they  had  not  the  courage  to  take  a  life 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  61 

so  dear,  and  the  deed  was  left  for  the  guards  of 
Anjou. 

And  now  through  the  quivering  air  rang  the. 
tumult  of  the  hosts  of  hell — the  discharge  of 
fire-arms,  the  clang  of  bells,  the  shouts  of  the 
pursuers,  the  shrieks  of  the  flying,  the  piteous 
cries  of  the  wounded  and  the  dying.  Mangled 
bodies  fell  heavily  from  the  windows  ;  dissevered 
limbs  strewed  the  streets  ;  crimson  streams  hur 
ried  to  the  crimson  river.  No  innocence,  no  age 
found  mercy.  The  dead  soldier  floated  down  the 
Seine,  side  by  side  with  the  cradle  of  the  living 
infant.  Even  childhood  caught  the  mania  of 
murder.  The  boy  of  ten  years  old  strangled  the 
infant  of  as  many  months.  Nor  were  the  white 
cross  and  the  scarf  a  sure  protection.  Family 
feuds,  the  rivalries  of  love,  the  jealousies  of  place, 
now  found  quick  redress  among  the  Catholic 
ranks.  Sons  shot  the  fathers  who  had  lived  too 
long ;  heirs  claimed  by  the  sword  their  tardy  in 
heritance  ;  the  discharge  of  a  pistol  would  liqui 
date  a  debt ;  the  stroke  of  a  poniard  would  settle 
a  disputed  suit.  Carts  rumbling  over  the  stones, 
freighted  with  the  dying  and  the  dead,  encoun 
tered  carts  laden  with  their  pillaged  spoils.  From 
the  windows  of  the  Louvre,  Charles  IX.  continu 
ally  howled,  "Kill!  kill!"  while  Catherine  and 
her  maids  of  honor  laughed  with  ribald  jest  over 


G2  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES    OF 

the  corpses  of  the  gallant  men  with  whom  they 
had  danced  and  feasted  a  few  hours  before. 
Woman's  tenderness  and  man's  humanity  were 
alike  palsied  in  these  orgies  of  the  fiends. 
Sc'ence  furnished  no  shield ;  art,  no  exemption. 
Goujon,  the  "  Correggio  of  sculpture,"  was 
slain  with  the  chisel  in  his  hand,  and  his  eye 
intent  upon  the  half-carved  statue.  Ramus,  the 
learned  philosopher  who  first  dared  to  repudiate 
the  doctrines  of  Aristotle,  was  found  in  his 
hidden  retreat  by  his  rival  Charpentier.  Ramus 
offered  all  his  fortune  as  the  price  of  his  life 
The  ransom  was  accepted,  but  the  bond  was 
sealed  with  death.  "  Bleed !  bleed  ! "  shouted 
Tavannes ;  "  bleeding  is  as  good  in  August  as  in 
May ! "  Navarre  and  the  Prince  of  Conde  were 
spared  only  by  a  superstition  of  the  Queen 
Mother.  A  friendly  astrologer  had  predicted  that 
they  would  in  future  be  loyal  and  pacific,  and 
the  prophecy  saved  their  lives.  But  though  ex 
empted  from  the  general  carnage,  they  were 
compelled  to  abjure  their  faith.  "  Death,  Mass, 
or  the  Bastile  !  "  cried  the  King,  as  they  were 
brought  before  him.  The  young  Baron  de  Rosni, 
afterwards  the  illustrious  Sully,  was  saved  by 
flying  to  the  college  of  Bourgogne,  with  a  Catho 
lic  book  under  his  arm.  Montgomery  escaped,  in 
night  apparel,  through  one  of  the  city  gates,  and 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  63 

rode  without  pause  a  hundred  miles,  until  he 
reached  his  own  chateau.  Several  illustrious 
lives  were  saved  by  a  similar  flight,  and  hundreds 
of  Huguenots  found  refuge  in  the  hospitable 
homes  of  England.* 

Seven  days  the  unheeded  sun  glared  on  the  car 
nival  of  terror,  and  seven  nights  the  stars  looked 

*  Merlin,  the  chaplain  of  Coligni,  concealed  himself  in  a 
hay-loft ;  and  it  was  recorded  in  the  next  synod  that  he  sub 
sisted  -  for  some  time  on  eggs,  daily  laid  by  a  hen  which  had 
made  its  nest  near  his  place  of  safety. 

Martin  brightens  these  dark  annals  by  a  story  of  generous 
greatness,  which  carries  us  back,  as  he  says,  to  "  the  heroes 
of  Scandinavia,"  or  reminds  us  perhaps  of  the  kingly  conduct 
of  Edward  III.  to  Eustace  de  Ribaumont,  or  that  of  the  Black 
Prince  at  Poictiers.  Two  gentlemen  of  different  faith,  and 
from  distant  provinces,  now  chanced  to  meet  in  Paris.  A 
deadly  feud  had  long  existed  between  them,  which  they 
had  often  sought  occasion  to  settle  by  single  combat.  Reg- 
nier,  who  was  a  Protestant,  felt  that  his  death  was  inevit 
able,  when  Vezins  suddenly  entered  his  apartment  with  a 
drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  accompanied  by  several  armed 
men.  Falling  on  his  knees,  Regnier  offered  the  last  prayer 
of  the  dying.  "  Rise,  and  follow  me,"  cried  his  foe,  conduct 
ing  him  to  a  spot  where  stood  two  horses,  and  a  company  of 
mounted  attendants.  Regnier,  ignorant  of  the  fate  awaiting 
him,  was  led  in  profound  silence,  during  a  ride  of  several 
days,  to  the  gates  of  his  own  chateau.  "  I  present  you,"  said 
Vezins,  "  with  your  steed,  and  with  your  life ;  but  do  not 
therefore  imagine  that  I  ask  your  friendship.  You  still  are 
free  to  be  friend  or  foe." 


64  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

down  upon  the  ghastly  dead.  The  royal  orders 
had  extended  through  France,  and  with  few  ex 
ceptions  they  were  obeyed.  Not  less  than  fifty 
thousand  souls  in  the  provinces,  and  ten  thou 
sand  in  the  city  of  Paris,  bore  to  distant  spheres 
their  fearful  witness  of  the  tragedy  of  St.  Bar 
tholomew.  The  tidings  flew  to  every  palace, 
remote  and  near,  and  while  Protestant  Europe 
was  paralyzed  with  horror,  Spain  expressed  her 
exultation ;  the  plaudits  of  the  Pope  were  sent 
with  jubilant  haste  to  the  French  king,  and 
paintings,  poems,  and  medals,  commemorative 
of  the  pious  deed,  were  added  to  the  treasures  of 
the  Vatican.  Maximilian  II.,  though  the  father- 
in-law  of  Charles,  openly  declared  his  indigna 
tion  ;  and  the  Court  of  England  treated  Fenelon, 
the  French  ambassador,  with  marked  resentment. 
Though  long  a  favourite  with  the  ladies  and 
courtiers,  they  received  him  in  deep  mourning, 
with  countenances  of  reproachful  gloom,  and 
deigned  neither  look  nor  word  as  he  passed 
through  the  rooms  leading  to  the  presence-cham 
ber.  Thousands  of  brave  Englishmen  burned 
with  impatience  to  hasten  to  the  relief  of  the 
intrepid  Huguenots,  who  had  now  ensconced 
themselves  in  the  stronghold  of  Rochelle.  But 
the  wary  Elizabeth,  true  to  her  usual  impassive 
policy,  and  conscious  of  her  perilous  position,  as 


SIR  PHILIP    SIDNEY.  65 

a  solitary  Protestant  sovereign  against  the  per 
fidious  trio  of  Rome,  France,  and  Spain,  quieted 
her  conscience  by  a  few  grave  animadversions 
upon  the  perjury  of  Charles,  and  calmed  her  sub 
jects  by  the  promise  of  secret  aid  to  their  de 
spairing  brethren. 


THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HE  signal-bell  of  St.  Germain  was  Philip 
Sidney's  first  warning  of  the  unparalleled 
coup  d'etat  that  wakened  France  upon  that 
u  awful  morn."  The  penetrative  art  of  the  wily 
English  minister  had,  for  once,  been  baffled  by 
Medicean  craft,  and  thus  his  countrymen  were 
all  unconscious  of  the  sleeping  volcano  on  which 
they  trod  in  fearless  and  festive  measure.  His 
house  was  their  immediate  refuge,  and  there  Sid 
ney  remained  until,  the  personal  danger  being 
past,  he  could  pursue  his  intended  travels.  Wal- 
singham,  who  seemed  to  be  much  impressed  with 
what  he  termed,  in  a  letter  to  Lord  Leicester,  the 
rare  gifts  of  his  nephew,  made  every  provision  for 
the  safety  of  the  wanderer,  and  secured  for  him 
through  Lorrain,  the  companionship  of  the  good 
Dean  of  Winchester.  Perhaps  a  prophetic  in 
stinct  may  have  warmed  the  heart  of  Sir  Francis, 
and  dimly  revealed  in  the  distance  a  closer  link 
between  himself  and  his  youthful  guest.  For  even 
on  this  blood-stained  soil,  were  sown  the  seeds  of 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  67 

life  and  love  ;  and  here  Sidney  first  saw,  we  are 
told,  his  future  wife,  the  Lady  Frances  Walsing- 
ham,  then  a  beautiful  child,  whose  passionate 
grief  for  the  Huguenots  called  forth  his  sympa 
thizing  and  tender  regard. 

From  the  brief  records  of  our  hero's  progress, 
we  learn  of  his  passing  through  Strasburg  and 
Heidelberg  to  Frankfort ;  pausing,  we  may  be 
lieve,  in  the  former  city,  at  least  long  enough  to 
bestow  a  tribute  of  admiration  upon  the  cele 
brated  cathedral,  with  its  elaborate  and  delicately 
wrought  tower,  its  famous  clock,  and  its  vast 
window  of  richly  painted  glass,  then  recently 
completed.  In  Heidelberg  too,  that  picturesque 
old  town,  nestling  in  the  vine-clad  valley  of  the 
Neckar,  then  flourishing  with  commerce  and  un 
injured  by  the  bombardments  and  assaults  of 
later  years,  we  may  fancy  his  visits  to  the  an 
cient  castle,  the  residence  of  the  Electors  Pala 
tine,  interesting  both  from  its  varied  fortunes 
and  its  architectural  grandeur  ;  thence  to  the 
Church  of  St.  Peter,  to  whose  door  Jerome  of 
Prague  attached  his  theses,  and  expounded  them 
to  the  crowd  in  the  churchyard  adjoining ;  and 
again  we  may  see  him  in  the  venerable  Univer 
sity,  one  of  the  oldest  in  Germany,  gazing  with 
a  student's  awe  upon  the  valuable  books  and 
manuscripts,  which,  in  the  scarcity  of  straw, 


68  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES    OF 

were  afterwards  ignobly  used  in  the  thirty  years 
war,  to  litter  the  cavalry  of  the  conqueror  Tilly. 
Sidney's  stay  in  Frankfort  was  of  several 
months  duration.  He  resided  with  Andrew 
Wechel,  a  noted  printer  of  that  day,  and  also 
a  man  of  learning,  for  in  the  sixteenth  century 
printers  were  scholars  too,  and  their  houses  were 
the  favorite  resorts  of  men  of  taste  and  letters. 
Here  Sidney  formed  an  acquaintance  with  Hu 
bert  Languet,  an  estimable  and  accomplished 
French  gentleman,  lately  a  professor  of  civil 
law  in  the  University  of  Padua,  a  friend  of 
Melancthon,  and  an  honored  confidant  of  Gus- 
tavus  of  Sweden,  and  of  William  of  Orange. 
His  graceful  urbanity  of  manner,  extraordinary 
conversational  gifts,  marvellous  erudition,  ex 
tended  political  knowledge,  and  unpretending 
goodness,  rendered  him  one  of  the  brightest  or 
naments  of  the  times.  To  him  Sidney  was  in 
debted  for  much  instruction  in  the  governments, 
laws,  and  usages  of  nations,  by  which  he  was 
fitted  for  the  duties  of  a  diplomatist  and  states 
man  ;  and  with  unwearied  heart  and  watchful 
eye  this  kind  Mentor  sought  in  his  two  years' 
abode  upon  the  continent,  to  guard  him  from  evil 
and  temptation,  to  fortify  and  exalt  his  native 
virtues,  and  to  guide  his  aspiring  mind.  It  was 
high  praise  to  win  the  warm  and  lasting  friend- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  69 

ship  of  this  distinguished  man,  who.  first  at 
tracted  by  Sidney's  countenance  and  discourse, 
afterwards  said  of  him,  "  That  day  on  which  I 
first  beheld  him  with  my  eyes,  shone  propitious 
to  me."  He  is  thus  gratefully  celebrated  by  Sir 
Philip  in  the  Arcadia: 

"  The  song  I  sang  old  Languet  had  me  taught, 
Languet,  the  shepherd  best  swift  Ister  knew, 
For  darkly  read,  and  hating  what  is  naught , 
For  faithful  heart,  clean  hands,  and  mouth  as  true, 
With  his  sweet  skill  my  soulless  youth  he  drew 
To  have  a  feeling  taste  of  Him  that  sits 
Beyond  the  heaven,  far  more  beyond  your  wit. 

His  good  strong  staff  my  slippery  youth  upbore ; 
He  still  hoped  well,  because  I  loved  truth." 

The  letters  of  Languet  to  Sir  Philip,  written 
in  Latin,  have  been  much  commended  for  their 
admirable  sentiments  and  classic  elegance  of 
style.  Unfortunately,  but  a  small  portion  of  Sid 
ney's  share  in  the  correspondence  has  been  pre 
served.  The  table-talk  at  the  house  of  Andrew 
Wechel  would  be  to  us  a  pleasant  record,  but  we 
are  left  to  fancy  the  sparkling  conversations  of 
the  erudite  printer  and  his  guests ;  how  they 
talked  of  the  mystical  Platonism  and  the  Aris 
totelian  logic  which  divided  the  philosophy  of 
Europe,  yet  untouched  by  the  Promethean  fire 


70  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

of  Bacon  and  Des  Cartes  ;  of  the  struggling 
hopes  of  their  revered  religion,  in  these  tempest 
uous  times ;  of  Italian  literature,  still  irradiating 
Christendom  with  the  glory,  which,  reflected 
from  the  two  preceding  centuries,  was  not  yet 
sensibly  obscured  by  the  meretricious  taste  and 
the  political  despotism  that  were  beginning  to 
shed  their  baneful  influence  upon  the  present 
era ;  of  Venetian  splendor,  of  Roman  art,  and 
of  a  thousand  other  themes  that  kindled  the  en 
thusiasm  of  the  ardent  Sidney.  With  reluctant 
adieus,  he  at  last  severed  himself  from  the  de 
lightful  society  at  Frankfort,  and,  laden  with  rich 
memories  and  garnered  lore,  proceeded  to  Vienna, 
in  September,  1573. 

The  capital  of  the  Germanic  Empire  could  not 
then  boast  the  attractive  features  that  have  since 
rendered  it  one  of  the  most  brilliant  cities  of 
Europe.  But  the  famous  Church  of  St.  Stephen, 
and  some  other  types  of  that  stately  and  gor 
geous  architecture  whose  creation  ceased  with 
the  age  of  Christian  idolatry  that  inspired  it; 
the  University  and  the  imperial  Library,  the 
most  distinguished  in  Germany  save  that  of 
Heidelberg,  were  objects  of  interest  to  our  trav 
eller  ;  as  also  were,  both  here  and  in  the  other 
cities  of  his  sojourn,  the  works  of  the  old  German 
painters,  so  remarkable  for  their  microscopic  ex- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  7] 

actness  and  minute  elaboration,  of  Von  Eyck, 
who  revolutionized  his  art  by  the  introduction 
of  oils,  of  Kranach,  of  Holbein,  and  of  Albert 
Durer,  the  Raphael  of  his  country,  and  the  in 
ventor  of  engravings  upon  copper. 

Sidney  here  applied  himself  with  especial  zeal 
to  the  study  of  those  accomplishments  which 
were  deemed  essential  to  the  finish  of  a  high 
born  cavalier ;  fencing,  the  use  of  arms  in  tour 
nament  and  tilt,  tennis  playing,  music,  and, 
above  all,  horsemanship.  His  preceptor  in  the 
latter  art  was  the  chief  equerry  in  the  Emperor's 
stables,  to  whose  eloquent  partiality  for  his  pro 
fession  Sidney  thus  alludes  in  his  Defence  of 
Poesy. 

"  When  the  right  vertuous  E.  W.*  and  I  were 
at  the  Emperor's  court  together,  we  gave  our 
selves  to  learn  horsemanship  of  John  Pietro 
Pugliano,  one  that  with  great  commendation 
held  the  place  of  Esquire  in  his  Stable ;  and  he, 
according  to  the  fertileness  of  the  Italian  wit. 
did  not  only  afford  us  the  demonstration  of  his 
practice,  but  sought  to  enrich  our  minds  with 
tin*  contemplation  therein,  which  he  thought 
most  precious.  But  with  none  I  remember  mine 
eares  were  at  any  time  more  loaden,  than  when 

*  Edward  Wotton,  the  brother  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton. 


72  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

(either  angered  with  slow  payment,  or  moved 
with  our  learner-like  admiration)  hee  exercised 
his  speech  in  the  praise  of  his  faculty.  He  said 
souldiers  were  the  noblest  estate  of  mankind, 
and  horsemen  the  noblest  of  souldiers.  He  said 
they  were  the  masters  of  war,  and  ornaments  of 
peace,  speedy  goers  and  strong  abiders,  triumph- 
ers  both  in  camps  and  courts ;  nay,  to  so  un- 
beleeved  a  point,  he  proceeded,  as  that  no  earthly 
thing  bred  such  wonder  to  a  Prince,  as  to  be  a 
good  horseman.  Then  would  he  adde  certaine 
praises,  by  telling  what  a  peerless  beast  the  horse 
was,  the  only  serviceable  Courtier  without  flat 
tery,  the  beast  of  most  beauty,  faithfulnesse, 
courage,  and  such  more,  that  if  I  had  not  bin  a 
peece  of  a  logician  before  I  came  to  him,  I  think 
he  would  have  pers waded  me  to  have  wished 
myself  a  horse." 

To  Venice,  the  brilliant  centre  of  taste  and 
fashion,  and  still  the  proud  claimant  of  a  mari 
time  sovereignty  that  was  rapidly  passing  into 
other  hands,  Philip  Sidney  next  directed  his  way. 
What  motley  pictures  of  the  past  and  present 
must  have  flitted  before  his  eye  as  he  stood  upon 
the  Rialto,  or  trod  the  tesselated  pavement  of  St. 
Mark, — from  the  far-off  day  when  the  fugitive 
fishermen  of  these  sterile  isles  sold  their  humble 
wares  upon  the  neighboring  coasts,  on,  through 


SIR   PHILIP   SIDNEY.  73 

centuries  of  industry  and  toil,  until  the  flag  of 
the  fearless  republic  floated  defiantly  over  every 
sea,  and  commanded  respect  from  every  people. 
He  looked  back  upon  the  dreary  ages  when  dark 
ness  brooded  over  Europe,  and  Art  had  taken 
refuge  in  the  city  of  Constantine,  and  saw  in 
Venice  the  only  causeway  through  which  the 
gorgeous  trappings  and  luxurious  commodities 
of  the  East  were  conveyed  to  Germany  and 
France.  He  saw  the  mountains  of  Istria  fur 
nishing  flocks  for  the  woollen  fabrics  of  this  busy 
people ;  the  coast  of  Frioul,  mulberry  trees  for 
their  silks ;  the  islands  of  the  Levant,  their  sugar- 
canes  and  wines  ;  their  ships  and  their  treasures 
more  than  once  gladly  borrowed  by  kings  and 
nobles,  during  the  wars  in  Palestine ;  and  work 
men  from  Athens,  Thebes,  and  Corinth,  finding 
rich  reward  in  the  reproduction  of  their  classic 
models  of  sculpture,  while  antique  gems,  mosaics 
and  bronzes,  the  marble  of  Palladio  and  the 
canvas  of  Titian,  now  enriched  their  churches 
and  their  palaces.  Unaffected  alike  by  Oriental 
voluptuousness  and  by  Gothic  barbarism,  their 
prosperity  and  their  refinement  kept  equal  pace  ; 
while  the  jealous,  relentless  despotism  of  their 
government  repressed  domestic  treason  and  pre 
cluded  foreign  guile. 

But  the  tide  had  even  now  turned,  and  was 


74  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

sweeping  away  from  the  mistress  of  the  seas  the 
golden  treasures  of  her  youth. 

The  discovery  of  America,  and  of  a  new  pas 
sage  to  the  Indies  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
diverting  from  the  Adriatic  the  merchandise  of 
Asia,  the  jealousy  of  Spain,  the  commercial 
rivalry  of  other  nations,  the  inroads  of  the  Turks, 
and  the  loss  of  Cyprus  and  Candia,  were  the 
causes  of  a  decline  which  neither  enterprise  could 
arrest,  nor  vigilance  avert. 

In  1574,  Venice  was  the  neutral  ground  on 
which  men  of  all  creeds  and  countries  could  meet 
safely,  and  with  pleasure ;  it  was  still  the  emporium 
of  trade,  and  the  rendezvous  of  poets,  painters, 
and  sculptors.  Flitting  about  its  canals,  were 
young  cavaliers  from  England  and  France,  bar 
tering  for  the  silks  and  laces  indispensable  to 
their  attire,  or  for  the  polished  weapons  and 
gilded  leather  equally  essential  to  their  equestrian 
display.  Turbaned  Turks,  now  on  an  embassy 
from  Constantinople,  commanded  respectful  no 
tice  in  the  halls  of  audience ;  for  the  Doge  and 
the  Council  of  Ten  feared  nothing  so  much  as 
these  insatiable  foes.  Military  men  from  Stock 
holm  and  Madrid  exchanged  admiration  over  the 
magnificent  arsenal  from  whose  ramparts  the 
gigantic  granite  lions  of  the  Piraeus,  trophies  of 
Venetian  conquest  in  Athens,  looked  down  upon 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  75 

the  harbor.  Here  were  sixteen  thousand  work 
men,  constantly  employed  in  replenishing  vast 
magazines  with  all  the  different  pieces  requisite 
in  the  construction  of  vessels  ;  the  immense  foun- 
deries,  under  the  hereditary  superintendence  of 
the  family  of  Alberghetti,  and,  on  the  same  grand 
scale,  the  rope-walks  in  which  the  best  cables  in 
the  world  were  made.  The  glass-works  of  Mu- 
rano  furnished  mirrors  to  the  vanity  of  all  Europe. 
The  lovers  of  art  found  endless  delight  in  the  rich 
paintings,  which,  although  lacking  the  anatomical 
accuracy,  perspective  skill,  and  comprehensive 
grandeur  of  the  Florentine  school,  and  the  truth 
ful  design,  matchless  grace,  and  ideal  beauty  of 
the  Roman,  were  celebrated  for  their  brilliant  col 
oring  and  harmonious  blending  of  tints.  Reject 
ing  the  religious  and  mystical  subjects,  the  Saints 
and  Madonnas,  to  which  art  was  usually  conse 
crated,  the  Venetian  painters  followed  the  popular 
fancy  for  florid  decoration,  and  immortalized  on 
the  walls  of  St.  Mark  and  in  the  Ducal  Palace 
the  grave  senators  and  voluptuous  beauties,  the 
gorgeous  festivals  and  processions  that  gave  to 
Venice  the  air  of  an  Oriental  city.  Bellini  had,  a 
hundred  years  before,  adorned  the  council  cham 
ber  with  the  pictured  achievements  of  the  proud 
Republic.  Giorgione,  his  illustrious  pupil  and 
the  teacher  of  Titian,  had  left  his  masterpiece, 


76  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

"  Christ  carrying  the  Cross,"  in  the  Church  of 
St.  Roco.  Pordenone  had  painted  his  frescoes  in 
the  Church  of  St.  Stefano,  with  sword  by  his 
side,  to  protect  himself  against  the  jealousy  of 
his  rival,  the  impetuous  Titian.  Andrea  Schia- 
vone,  rescued  by  the  latter  from  the  obscurity  of 
sign-painting,  was  living,  and  in  poverty;  for  he 
shared  the  fate,  so  often  allotted  to  genius,  of  con 
temporary  neglect  and  posthumous  praise.  Paul 
Veronese  was  now  at  the  height  of  his  brilliant 
reputation,  and  Palma  was  embellishing  the  pal 
ace  of  St.  Mark.  Zuccaro,  who  afterwards  so 
splendidly  decorated  the  hall  of  the  Grand  Coun 
cil  that  he  was  rewarded  with  the  order  of  knight 
hood,  was  at  present  in  England,  painting  the 
portraits  of  Elizabeth,  and  some  of  her  courtiers. 
Yet  more  conspicuous  than  these  was  Tintoretto, 
whose  bold,  rapid,  fantastic  pencil  procured  for 
him  the  sobriquet  of  "  II  Furioso."  His  efforts 
to  combine  Florentine  grandeur  with  Venetian 
coloring  were  evidenced  in  the  inscription  on  the 
door  of  his  studio,  "  II  Disegno  di  Michel  Angelo, 
e  il  Colorito  di  Tiziano."  His  finest  picture  was 
that  of  a  Venetian  slave,  about  to  suffer  martyr 
dom  from  the  Turks,  when  St.  Mark,  the  patron 
saint  of  the  republic,  suddenly  appears,  in  answer 
to  her  prayers,  destroys  the  instruments  of  death, 
and  disperses  the  executioners.  But  superior  to 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  77 

all  was  Titian,  the  last  and  greatest  of  the  Vene 
tian  school,  now  enjoying  the  mellowed  radiance 
of  a  serene  old  age  in  his  palace  opposite  the 
island  of  Murano,  at  the  windows  of  which  he 
might  often  be  seen  at  the  sunset  hour,  listening 
to  the  songs  of  the  gondoliers,  or  conversing  with 
the  many  guests  who  sought  his  presence.  We 
may  be  sure  that  Philip  Sidney  visited  the  illus 
trious  artist  who  had  been  honored  by  kings  and 
lauded  throughout  Europe ;  to  pick  up  whose 
pencil,  Charles  V.  pronounced  a  service  worthy 
of  an  emperor,  and  whose  pictures  were  declared 
by  him  to  be  above  all  price. 

The  kindred  art  of  music  was  the  pastime  of 
all  the  sons  of  genius.  They  often  met  for  its 
enjoyment ;  and  Tintoretto,  as  Giorgione  a  few 
years  before,  was  often  persuaded  to  lend  to 
patrician  concerts  the  peculiar  melody  of  his 
voice. 

Palladio,  the  famous  architect,  was  still  living. 
Sansovino,  the  sculptor,  had  died  two  years  be 
fore  ;  but  his  fame  survived  in  the  colossal  statues 
of  Neptune  and  of  Mars,  and  in  the  decorations 
of  the  Mint  and  Library.  Here,  too,  were  men 
of  letters.  Tasso,  still  young,  had  written  his 
Rinaldo,  and  was  about  publishing  his  Jerusalem. 
Francis  Sansovino  and  Manutius,  the  learned 
printers  and  classical  writers;  Paruta,  the  histo- 


78  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

rian ;  Paoli  Sarpi,  subsequently  the  able  defender 
of  Venice  in  its  quarrels  with  Pius  V.,  were  the 
other  celebrities  of  the  day :  and  we  have  good 
reason  to  believe  that  Sidney  frequently  enjoyed 
the  advantages  of  their  society. 

The  temptations  of  this  gay  city  to  young  men 
of  rank  and  fortune  were  doubtless  manifold,  and 
few  of  his  countrymen  escaped  their  contamina 
tion.  Roger  Aseham,  the  good  preceptor  of 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  lamented  the  practice  of  send 
ing  the  youth  of  England  to  reside  in  Italy; 
declaring  that  they  returned  "  sneerers,  flatterers, 
backbiters,  tainted  with  the  vices  of  Venice, 
atheists,  and  epicures."  But  the  watchful  coun 
sels  of  Languet,  his  own  aesthetic  and  literary 
studies,  and  especially  his  pure  and  elevated  prin 
ciples,  preserved  Sidney  from  the  evils  whose 
mildew,  once  fallen  on  the  soul,  time  and  tears 
only  can  efface.  And  here  it  may  be  interesting 
to  present  to  the  reader  a  brief  extract  on  the 
objects  of  self-culture,  from  one  of  Sidney's 
works ;  regarding  it  as  an  expression  of  his  hab 
its  of  thought  and  study,  at  all  periods  of  his 
life. 

"  This  purifying  of  wit,  this  enriching  of  mem 
ory,  ennobling  of  judgment  and  enlarging  of  con 
ceit,  which  commonly  we  call  learning;  under 
what  name  soever  it  come  forth,  or  to  what  im- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  79 

mediate  end  soever  it  be  directed,  the  final  end 
is,  to  lead  and  draw  us  to  as  high  perfection  as 
our  degenerate  souls  (made  coarse  by  their  clay 
lodgings)  can  be  capable  of.  This,  according  to 
the  inclinations  of  man,  bred  many-formed  im 
pressions;  for  some  that  thought  this  felicity 
principally  to  be  gotten  by  knowledge,  and  no 
knowledge  to  be  so  high  or  heavenly  as  to  be 
acquainted  with  the  stars,  gave  themselves  to 
astronomy ;  others  persuading  themselves  to  be 
demi-gods,  if  they  knew  the  causes  of  things, 
became  natural  and  supernatural  philosophers; 
some,  an  admirable  delight  drew  to  Music ;  and 
some,  the  certainty  of  demonstrations,  to  the 
mathematics ;  but  all,  one  and  other,  having  this 
scope,  To  KNOW,  and  by  knowledge  to  lift  up 
the  mind  from  the  dungeon  of  the  body,  to  the 
enjoying  of  its  divine  essence.  But  when,  by 
the  balance  of  experience,  it  was  found  that  the 
astronomer,  looking  to  the  stars,  might  fall  into  a 
ditch,  that  the  inquiring  philosopher  might  be 
blind  to  himself,  and  the  mathematician  might 
draw  forth  a  straight  line  with  a  crooked  heart ; — 
then,  lo !  did  Proof,  the  overruler  of  opinions, 
make  manifest  that  all  these  are  but  serving 
sciences ;  which,  as  they  are  all  directed  to  the 
higher  aim  of  the  mistress-knowledge,  Knowl 
edge  of  a  Man's  Self,  in  the  ethic  and  politic 


80  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

consideration — with  the  end  of  Well  Doing,  not 
of  well  knowing  only — so  the  end  of  all  earthly 
learning  being  virtuous  action,  those  skills  that 
most  serve  to  bring  forth  that,  have  a  most  just 
title  to  be  princes  over  the  rest."  * 

After  a  few  months  sojourn  in  Venice,  Sidney 
withdrew  to  the  quiet  and  learned  city  of  Padua, 
that  he  might  devote  himself  to  severe  study 
in  the  sciences  of  geometry  and  astronomy,  to 
Cicero's  Epistles,  arid  the  works  of  Plutarch, 
which  were  then  very  rare  and  with  difficulty 
obtained.  He  remained  there  eight  months,  as 
siduously  storing  his  mind  with  the  wisdom  of 
the  acute  and  critical  Greek,  and  forming  his 
style  upon  the  classic  elegance  of  the  Roman ; 
while  his  recreation  was  found  in  the  pages  of 
Petrarch  and  Boccaccio,  of  Dante  and  Ariosto, 
whose  hymns  of  genius  still  thrill  the  pulse  of 
fair  but  faded  Italy. 

Of  Sidney's  correspondence  with  Languet 
only  seventeen  letters  have  been  handed  down 
to  us ;  but  they  most  pleasantly  indicate  the 
friendship  of  these  eminent  men,  their  mutual 
interest  in  the  political  transactions  of  the  times, 
and  Sidney's  scholastic  pursuits  under  the  direc 
tion  and  advice  of  his  learned  guide.  Here  is 
one  dated  January  15,  1574  : 

*  Defence  of  Poesy. 


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SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  81 

"  Behold  at  last  my  letter  from  Padua !  Not 
that  you  are  to  expect  any  greater  eloquence  than 
is  usually  to  be  found  in  my  epistles,  but  that 
you  may  know  I  have  arrived  here  as  I  proposed, 
and  in  safety ;  and  I  think  it  right  without  any 
delay  to  write  you  a  few  words  from  hence,  for 
your  satisfaction  and  my  own,  as  far  as  commu 
nication  by  letter  can  be  satisfactory.  Here  I 
am  then,  and  I  have  already  visited  his  Excel 
lency  the  Count  and  the  Baron  Slavata,  your 
worthy  young  friends,  and  while  I  enjoy  their 
acquaintance  with  the  greater  pleasure  to  myself, 
I  am  perpetually  reminded  of  your  surpassing 
love  of  me,  which  you  show  in  taking  so  much 
care  not  only  for  me,  but  for  all  my  concerns  and 
conveniences,  and  that  without  any  deserving  on 
my  part.  But  you  are  not  a  man  to  be  thanked 
for  such  a  thing ;  for  you  are  even  now  meditat 
ing  greater  kindness  still,  and  in  truth,  as  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  much  as  I  am  indebted  to  you,  I 

am  only  too  willing  to  owe  you  more 

Your  last  letter  brought  me  no  news,  for  it  was 
filled  with  instances  of  your  affection,  ever  pleas 
ant  indeed,  but  long  since  known  and  proved,  a 
kind  of  letter  which  is,  above  all  others,  delightful 
and  acceptable  to  me,  for  while  I  read  I  fancy 
that  I  have  the  very  Hubert  himself  before  my 
eyes  and  in  my  hands.  I  intend  to  follow  your 


82  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

advice  about  composition  thus:  I  shall  first  take 
one  of  Cicero's  letters  and  turn  it  into  French ; 
then  from  French  into  English,  and  so  once  more 
by  a  sort  of  perpetual  motion  it  shall  come  round 
into  Latin  again.  Perhaps  too  I  shall  improve 
myself  in  Italian  by  the  same  exercise.  For  I 
have  some  letters  translated  into  the  vulgar 
tongue  by  the  very  learned  Paolo  Manuzio,*  and 
into  French  by  some  one  else.  The  volumes  of 
Cicero  I  will  read  diligently.  There  are  some 
things  also  that  I  wish  to  learn  of  Greek,  which 
hitherto  I  have  skimmed  on  the  surface.  But  the 
chief  object  of  my  life,  next  to  the  everlasting 
blessedness  of  heaven,  will  always  be  the  enjoy 
ment  of  true  friendship,  and  there  you  shall  have 
the  chiefest  place."  .  .  . 

.On  the  4th  of  February  he  writes  again : — 
"  Your  last  letter  was,  on  many  accounts,  most 
delightful  to  me,  full  as  it  was  of  your  affectionate 
regard.  I  am  glad  you  approve  of  my  intention 
of  giving  up  the  study  of  astronomy,  but  about 
geometry  I  hardly  know  what  to  determine.  I 
long  so  greatly  to  be  acquainted  with  it,  and  the 
more  so,  because  I  have  always  felt  sure  that  it  is 
of  the  greatest  service  in  the  art  of  war ;  never 
theless  I  shall  pay  but  sparing  attention  to  it,  and 
only  peep  through  the  bars,  so  to  speak,  into  the 
*  A  celebrated  printer  of  Venice. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  83 

rudiments  of  the  science.  Of  Greek  literature  I 
wish  to  learn  only  so  much  as  shall  suffice  for  the 
perfect  understanding  of  Aristotle.  For  though 
translations  are  made  almost  daily,  still  I  suspect 
they  do  not  declare  the  meaning  of  the  author 
plainly  or  aptly  enough ;  and  besides,  I  am  utterly 
ashamed  to  be  following  the  stream,  as  Cicero 
says,  and  not  go  to  the  fountain  head.  Of  the 
works  of  Aristotle,  I  consider  the  politics  to  be 
the  most  worth  reading ;  and  I  mention  this  in 
reference  to  your  advice  that  I  should  apply  my 
self  to  moral  philosophy.  Of  the  German  lan 
guage,  my  dear  Hubert,  I  absolutely  despair.  It 
has  a  sort  of  harshness,  (you  know  very  well  what 
I  mean,)  so  that  at  my  age,  I  have  no  hope  that 
I  shall  ever  master  it,  even  so  as  to  understand  it ; 
nevertheless,  to  please  you,  I  will  sometimes  prac 
tise  it,  especially  at  dinner  with  my  good  Delius. 
I  readily  allow  that  I  am  often  more  serious  than 
either  my  age  or  my  pursuits  demand ;  yet  this  I 
have  learned  by  experience,  that  I  am  never  less 
a  prey  to  melancholy  than  when  I  am  earnestly 
applying  the  feeble  powers  of  my  mind  to  some 
high  and  difficult  object. 

"  I  am  both  glad  and  sorry  that  you  ask  me  so 
urgently  for  my  portrait ;  glad,  because  a  request 
of  this  kind  breathes  the  spirit  of  that  sweet  and 
long-tried  affection  with  which  you  regard  me ; 


84  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

and  sorry  that  you  have  any  hesitation  in  asking 
me  for  so  mere  a  trifle."  .  .  "As  soon  as  ever  I 
return  to  Venice,  I  will  have  it  done  either  by 
Paul  Veronese  or  by  Tintoretto,  who  hold  by  far 
the  highest  place  in  the  art."  .  .  . 

His  letters  in  April  and  May  of  the  same  year 
are  replete  with  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  prospects 
of  the  Protestant  cause  : — 

"I  would  have  you  believe  that  I  am  deeply 
and  sincerely  distressed.  For  I  have  heard,  and 
that  from  no  obscure  persons,  but  even  from  the 
Council  of  Ten,  that  Count  Louis  has  been  de 
feated  and  mortally  wounded  ;  his  brother  taken, 
and  a  great  number  of  his  people  slain,  among 
whom,  most  distinguished,  are  Christopher,  son  of 
the  Palatine,  and  certain  Counts  of  the  Rhine,  as 
they  are  called.  And  they  say  that  such  a  panic 
has  arisen  from  this  in  Belgium,  that  unless  some 
Christian  prince  comes  to  the  rescue,  affairs  are 
tending  to  a  surrender.  I  hope,  indeed,  and  hope 
because  I  wish,  that  this  is  a  false  rumor,  spread 
about  to  please  the  Spaniards,  who  desire  nothing 
so  much  as  that  men  should  believe  they  are 
prospering.  But  howsoever  it  may  be,  my  dearest 
Languet,  this  at  least  is  certain,  that  our  princes 
are  enjoying  too  deep  a  slumber."  ..."  I  late 
ly  saw  a  work,  written  with  some  skill,  in  which 
the  author  strongly  urges  the  princes  whom  he 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  85 

calls  Catholic,  to  carry  out  the  decrees  of  the 
Council  of  Trent ;  and  he  finds  occasion  for  this 
especially  in  the  disgraceful  indolence  of  the  Ger 
man  princes ;  for  while  some  of  them  are  engaged 
in  carousals,  others  in  absurd  hunting  parties, 
others  again  in  turning  the  course  of  rivers  with 
lavish  expenditure ;  and  all,  except  the  Palatine, 
have  made  up  their  minds  to  neglect  their  people 
and  ruin  themselves,  he  is  confident  they  may 
easily  be  crushed."  ..."  I  have  written  to-day 
to  my  uncle,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  and  have  told 
him  ah1  the  results  which  the  Spaniards  promise 
themselves  from  this  victory.  Perhaps  some  good 
may  come  of  my  letter,  and  if  not,  at  any  rate, 
for  my  own  part,  I  would  rather  be  charged  with 
lack  of  wisdom  than  of  patriotism."  .... 

"  I  hear  the  Turks  are  making  great 

preparations  this  year,  so  that  I  hope  the  Span 
iards  will  have  to  think  more  of  defending  their 
own  homes  than  of  attacking  other  men.  And 
hence  many  persons  begin  to  doubt  whether  John 
of  Austria  will  return  to  Spain.  Cosmo,  Duke 
of  Florence,  died  the  other  day  ;  his  people  lament 
him  greatly,  with  the  same  feelings  as  those  of 
the  woman  of  Syracuse,  who  prayed  long  life  to 
King  Dionysius.  His  successor  is  even  now 
busily  treating  with  the  Turks,  that  his  Etrurian 
subjects  may  have  free  access  to  trade  in  Greece." 


86  THE   LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

...  .  .  "  I  do  hope  that  before  many  years 
are  past,  the  virtues  of  these  Spaniards  will  be 
understood  by  the  whole  world.  They  were  born 
slaves,  and  have  done  nothing  ever  since  (as  if  to 
make  bad  worse)  but  change  their  masters;  for 
they  have  always  been  servants  of  Carthaginians, 
Romans,  Vandals,  Goths,  Saracens,  or  Moors ; 
of  late,  indeed,  they  have  been  somewhat  raised 
by  the  character  of  one  man,  Charles,  and  he  was 
a  Belgian,  and  since  his  death  all  the  world  sees 
with  what  speed  they  are  hastening  back  to  their 
original  condition."  .  .  .  , 

The  University  of  Padua  was  one  of  the  most 
renowned  in  this  age  and  country  of  scholars,*  and 
Philip  Sidney  must  often  have  met  its  erudite 
professors  in  the  salons  of  the  renowned  Pinelli. 
This  refined  and  wealthy  gentleman  made  his 
house  the  resort  of  distinguished  men  from  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  generously  opened  to  them 
his  library,  containing  every  valuable  book  in  print, 
and  his  museum  of  curiosities  and  of  scientific 
instruments. 

Returning  to  Venice  in  February,  1574,  Sidney 

*  In  Tiraboschi,  Storia  della  Letteratura  Italiana,  vol.  7, 
pp.  89-91,  will  be  found  a  full  and  interesting  account  of  the 
condition  of  the  University  of  Padua  during  the  16th  cen 
tury.  In  1564,  two  hundred  Germans  were  there  studying 
law ;  together  with  many  artists,  and  foreigners  from  all  parts. 


SIR   PHILIP   SIDNEY.  87 

wrote  to  Languet  of  his  purpose  to  visit  Rome. 
That  faithful  friend,  alarmed  it  would  seem,  lest 
his  religious  principles  should  be  subverted  in  the 
head-quarters  of  Romish  proselytism,  sent  him 
repeated  and  earnest  letters  of  dissuasion,  assur 
ing  him  that  a  visit  there  would  hazard  both  his 
faith  and  his  reputation.  "  If  you  should  fall 
into  the  hands  of  those  robbers  at  Rome,"  he 
writes,  "  you  must  either  renounce  the  religion  you 
profess,  or  expose  your  life  to  extreme  danger.  It 
would  be  entirely  impossible  for  you  altogether 
to  escape  them ;  for  although  you  might  not  have 
reason  to  be  afraid  of  the  treachery  of  those  who 
pretend  to  be  your  friends,  yet  the  dignity  of  your 
aspect  would  cause  many  to  be  inquisitive  con 
cerning  you.  What  mighty  advantage  would 
accrue  to  you  from  inspecting  for  a  fewT  days  the 
ruins  of  Rome,  merely  to  boast  that  you  had  seen 
them?  God  has  granted  to  you  more  than  to 
any  one  I  know,  an  energy  of  genius,  not  for  the 
purpose  of  abusing  it,  by  examining  vain  objects 
to  your  great  danger,  but  of  employing  it  for  the 
advantage  of  your  country  and  of  all  good  men. 
You  are  only  the  steward  as  it  were  of  your  no 
ble  talents,  and  by  the  abuse  of  them  you  offend 
against  that  Being  who  has  conferred  such  a 
blessing  on  you."  "  Mi  dulcissime  filii,"  he  adds 
in  another  letter,  "  it  is  difficult  for  a  man  clothed 


88  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

in  white  apparel  to  remain  in  an  apartment  filled 
with  smoke  and  dust,  without  soiling  his  garment ; 
nor  can  the  complexion  which  has  been  long  ex 
posed  to  the  sun,  retain  its  native  hue.  Equally 
difficult  it  will  be  for  you  to  preserve  your  mind 
pure  and  spotless  if  you  converse  with  the  Ital 
ians  ;  the  inhabitants  of  Venice  and  Padua  alone 
excepted,  who  have  not  yet  entirely  degenerated 
from  the  simplicity  of  those  nations  from  which 
they  deduce  their  origin." 

Sidney  yielded  to  the  advice  of  his  friend,  but 
expressed  regret  at  a  later  period  of  his  life  that 
he  had  not  visited  the  imperial  city,  and  seen 
with  his  own  eyes  the  fanes  of  pagan  prayer 
mouldering  among  the  Christian  ideals  of  Raphael 
and  Angelo ;  that  he  had  not  stood  within  the 
shadows  of  the  Coliseum,  or  meditated  among 
the  eloquent  sepulchres  of  the  Appian  Way. 

Paul  Veronese  was  the  artist  whom  Sidney 
employed  about  this  time  to  paint  his  portrait. 
Languet  attributes  its  sad  and  thoughtful  expres 
sion  to  the  severe  studies  which  had  occupied  his 
mind,  and  somewhat  impaired  his  health. 

Just  before  his  final  departure  from  Venice,  he 
had  the  pleasure  of  witnessing  a  superb  fete  given 
to  Henry  III.  of  France,  on  his  way  from  Poland 
to  Paris.  It  will  be  remembered  that  when  Duko 
of  Aojou,  he  was  the  hero  of  Jarnac  and  Mon- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  89 

contour,  successfully  opposing,  at  the  age  of 
eighteen,  the  most  marvellous  prowess  to  the 
veteran  skill  of  the  elder  Conde*  and  Coligni. 
We  next  hear  of  some  hollow-hearted  matrimo 
nial  negotiations  with  Elizabeth  of  England,  and 
then  of  his  active  part  in  the  tragedy  of  St. 
Bartholomew.  The  following  year,  the  death  of 
the  last  brave  Jagellon  left  Poland  without  a 
king,  and  Henry  Valois  was  invited  to  the  empty 
throne.  The  splendid  pageant  of  his  progress 
through  Germany,  and  his  entrance  with  an 
escort  of  forty  thousand  richly  dressed  attendants, 
was  followed  by  a  brief  and  discontented  reign. 
Disappointed  in  his  kingdom  and  unpopular  with 
his  subjects,  on  the  death  of  his  brother  Charles 
IX.,  he  joyfully  threw  down  the  crown  already 
hated,  and  hastened  to  assume  that  of  his  heredi 
tary  realm.  Having  accepted  an  invitation  to  visit 
Venice  on  his  way,  the  most  elaborate  prepara 
tions  were  there  made  for  his  reception.  A 
gorgeous  galley  was  built  for  his  especial  use, 
and  thirty  patrician  youth  appointed  to  attend 
him.  The  Doge  went  to  meet  him  in  the  royal 
Bucentaur  and  the  dignified  body  of  senators 
escorted  him  to  the  palace  of  the  Foscari.  The 
city  resounded  with  music  by  day,  and  blazed 
with  illuminations  by  night.  The  venerable 
Titian  received  the  princely  cortege  at  his  palace, 


90  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

and  presented  the  king  with  several  of  his  paint 
ings.  Another  day  he  was  conducted  to  the  ar 
senal,  where  a  mechanical  feat  was  exhibited  in 
the  entire  construction  of  a  vessel  in  the  space  of 
two  hours.  A  grand  banquet  was  then  given  on 
board,  at  which  the  knives  and  forks,  plates  and 
napkins  were  all,  with  curious  inutility,  composed 
of  sugar.  At  a  subsequent  entertainment  in  the 
ducal  palace,  three  hundred  groups  of  lions, 
nymphs,  ships,  and  griffins,  of  the  same  material 
were  gallantly  presented  to  the  fair  Portias  of  the 
occasion.* 

Nearly  three  years  had  passed  away  since 
Philip  Sidney's  departure  from  his  native  land, 
and  he  was  now  impatient  to  return.  They  had 
been  years  of  unwearied  research  and  diligent 
acquisition,  rearing  a  worthy  superstructure  upon 
the  basis  of  his  early  education.  He  had  learned 
to  converse  fluently  in  the  French,  Spanish,  and 
Italian  languages  ;  he  had  enriched  his  mind  with 
classic  lore  and  familiarized  it  with  the  literature 
of  the  age.  From  the  schools  of  philosophy  he 
had  won  the  power  of  subtle  thought,  from  the 
study  of  the  sciences,  that  of  critical  analysis ; 
and  in  the  works  of  art  he  had  seen  embodied  the 
ideals  of  his  own  poetic  fancy.  He  had  learned 

*  Daru's  Histoire  de  la  Kepublique  de  Venise,  2d  ed.,  Paris, 
1821. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  91 

lessons  of  statesmanship  and  of  military  life ;  and 
prepared  himself  equally  for  the  perplexing  du 
ties  of  the  one,  and  the  arduous  action  of  the 
other.  To  all  this  must  be  added  that  irresistible 
grace  which  baffles  imitation  and  cannot  be  de 
scribed;  but  which,  emanating  from  the  serene 
religious  faith  that  was  with  him  not  only  a 
principle  but  a  feeling,  bestowed,  as  the  dew  upon 
the  flower,  its  crowning  excellence  upon  the  un 
folded  beauty  of  his  character. 

His  homeward  route  through  Germany  was 
rapid,  and  unmarked  by  striking  incidents.  We 
next  hear  of  his  presentation  at  court  under  the 
auspices  of  his  uncle,  the  Earl  of  Leicester. 


92  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 


CHAPTER  V. 

would  seem  almost  an  impertinence  to 
transfer  to  new  canvas  the  familiar  picture 
of  the  England  of  Shakspeare  and  the 
Maiden  Queen.  But  with  the  knightly  figure  of 
Sir  Philip  Sidney  in  the  foreground,  we  may  be 
permitted  to  give  prominence  to  that,  by  dashing 
into  the  background  a  few  slight  outlines  of  some 
other  conspicuous  personages  of  the  day.  We 
will  drape  them  in  their  own  attire,  and  follow 
them  with  rapid  step  from  antique  mask  and 
revelry  to  the  grave  deliberations  of  the  council 
chamber,  to  fields  of  prowess,  and  seas  of  ad 
venture.  With  the  dawn  of  liberal  thought 
lately  breaking  upon  Europe  still  mingled  the 
reflected  light  of  the  fading  star  of  chivalry,  and 
nowhere  were  gallant  feats  of  arms  and  courtly 
observances  so  essentially  blended  with  states 
manship  and  valor  as  among  the  subjects  of  the 
lion-hearted,  but  beauty-loving,  Tudor.  Her 
men  of  silk  were  also  men  of  iron.  If,  one  hour, 
they  knelt  before  her  in  velvet  hose  and  doublet, 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  93 

and  wooed  her  virgin  heart  with  fantastic  adula 
tion  and  suppliant  roundelay  of  love,  the  next 
might  see  them  in  martial  array,  hastening  with 
impatient  step  to  her  armies  in  Holland,  or  bear 
ing  down  upon  the  pirate  fleet  of  Spain,  with  the 
war-cry  of  "  England  and  the  Queen  !  " 

In  truth,  this  strange  compound  of  Diana, 
Semiramis,  and  Cleopatra,  whom  men  called 
Elizabeth — this  Amazon  in  will,  and  almost 
Sybarite  in  pleasure,  tried  the  candidates  for  her 
service  by  a  lofty  and  peculiar  standard — just  that 
of  a  politic  and  sagacious,  yet  susceptible  and 
exacting,  woman.  She  demanded  indomitable 
courage,  but  the  sword,  burning  in  its  scabbard, 
must  wait  her  signal  to  unsheathe.  Abdiel,  the 
faithful,  could  hardly  have  satisfied  her  with  his 
fidelity,  and  Bayard  would  have  been  required  to 
consecrate  his  chivalry  to  her  solitary  shrine.  She 
valued,  like  a  wise  sovereign,  patriotism  and  prin 
ciple  ;  and  she  admired,  as  only  a  woman  can 
admire,  manly  beauty  and  accomplishment.  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  found  the  sacrifice  of  his  costly 
cloak  a  stepping-stone,  in  double  sense,  to  her 
favor ;  and  Sir  Christopher  Hatton  owed  his  pro 
motion  to  the  accidents  of  a  handsome  person 
and  graceful  dancing.  The  "  Gypsey  Earl,"  as 
swarthy  Leicester  was  called,  knew  well  how  to 
enthral  her  with  the  glamour  of  his  dark  eyes ; 


94  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

and  even  her  sixty  years  of  withered  maidenhood 
were  not  proof  against  the  youthful  blandish 
ments  of  Essex.  But  Sir  Christopher  would  not 
have  danced  into  the  lord-chancellorship,  if  he 
had  not  shown,  to  her  penetrating  eye,  the  ability 
which  the  office  required ;  nor  could  Leicester, 
with  all  his  beguiling  arts,  ever  make  her  forget 
that  she  carried  a  crown  as  well  as  a  heart. 
Power  was,  after  all,  her  predominating  passion, 
and  though  the  restless  heart  would  sometimes 
struggle  in  its  lonely  prison,  yet  the  crown  of  the 
daughter  of  Henry  the  Eighth  rested  on  a  brow 
as  proudly  defiant  as  that  of  her  imperious  father. 
With  ungenerous  perversity,  she  would  neither 
hazard  the  matrimonial  experiment  herself,  nor 
willingly  permit  any  of  those  in  her  immediate 
service  to  do  so.  It  was  happiness  enough  for 
her  cavaliers  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  her 
smiles,  and  be  permitted  occasionally  to  kiss  her 
beautiful  hand;  and  her  poor  maids  of  honor 
soon  found  that  a  profession  of  vestal  frigidity 
was  indispensable  to  a  place  in  her  regard. 
Doubtless  the  sly  flirtations  of  Greenwich  and 
Richmond  received  a  greater  zest  from  the  vigil 
ance  of  the  royal  duenna.  But  although  the 
grave  offence  of  matrimony  was  often  visited  by 
disgrace,  and  even  imprisonment,  especially  if  the 
offender  were  a  suitor  or  a  kinsman,  it  is  men- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  95 

tioned  as  a  remarkable  fact,  that  Hatton,  the 
superlative  dancer,  was  the  only  one  of  her  min 
isters  who  lived  and  died  a  bachelor. 

The  paradoxical  perfections  which  Elizabeth 
sought  were  so  singularly  blended  in  most  of 
her  eminent  men,  that  it  might  seem  a  question 
whether  they  were  created  expressly  for  her  ser 
vice,  or  she,  to  elicit  from  their  singular  antagon 
isms,  the  strength  and  power  of  her  administration. 
It  is  certain  that  both  were  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  perils  of  that  political  crisis.  The  eye  of 
Protestantism  was  anxiously  turned  upon  Eng 
land,  and  England  knew  that  only  the  wisest 
dexterity  could  baffle  the  combined  intrigues  of 
the  Catholic  powers.  If  they  could  have  re 
leased  Mary  Stuart  from  her  prison,  and  led  her 
in  triumph  to  the  English  throne,  then  might 
the  champions  of  religious  freedom  throughout 
Europe  have  perished  in  the  dungeons  of  the  In 
quisition,  or  stifled  in  silence  the  cry  of  their 
despair.  The  temporizing  policy  of  Elizabeth 
and  her  ministers  was  a  difficult  but  well-wrought 
problem.  It  was  necessary  to  intimidate  without 
incensing,  to  negotiate  without  self-committal,  to 
attack  without  suffering  reprisal,  to  retreat  without 
dishonor,  to  elude  the  spy  and  discern  the  traitor, 
to  aid  the  weak  and  defy  the  strong.  Mean 
while  the  fleet  must  be  enlarged,  the  militia  kept 


96  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

in  training,  (for  England  had  then  no  standing 
army,)  the  treasury  enriched,  and  the  people 
encouraged. 

When  Philip  Sidney  first  entered  upon  the 
brief  career  of  his  manhood,  there  stood  at  the 
helm  of  state,  faithful  as  Nestor  and  incorrup 
tible  as  Aristides,  Cecil,  Lord  Burleigh,  once 
deservedly  called  by  a  great  man  of  France, 
"  Quasi  Rex  et  Pater  Patrise."  England  never 
rejoiced  in  a  better  or  a  wiser  statesman  than  the 
Lord  Treasurer.  Neither  personal  interest,  sick 
ness,  misfortune,  friend  nor  foe,  could  divert  him 
from  the  affairs  of  his  office  when  they  demanded 
his  attention.  Fearless  and  uncompromising, 
both  liberal  and  frugal,  his  mind  could  grasp  the 
most  comprehensive  objects,  and  descend  to  the 
most  minute.  So  proudly  upright  was  he  that 
nothing  could  offend  him  more  than  the  offer  of 
a  bribe.  He  was  said  not  to  have  been  idle  more 
than  half  an  hour  during  twenty-four  years,  and, 
with  impartial  justice,  he  listened  as  readily  to  the 
poor  as  to  the  rich.  Of  commanding  presence 
and  winning  kindness  of  manner,  this  faithful 
servant  was  well  appreciated  by  the  Queen, 
although  her  impetuous  temper  often  visited  him 
with  angry  words.  "  I  will  stoop  for  your  master, 
but  not  for  the  King  of  Spain,"  she  once  said  to 
his  servant,  when  on  entering  Burleigh's  sick 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  97 

chamber,  her  towering  head-dress  made  such  con 
descension  necessary. 

Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  the  father  of  him  whose 
name  is  a  synonyme  of  both  wisdom  and  weak 
ness,  was  the  second  great  pillar  of  the  privy 
council.  He  was  the  most  acute  thinker  of  them 
all,  and  the  tangled  questions  of  state  were  often 
unravelled  by  his  patient  deliberation.  "  Let  us 
stay  a  little,"  he  would  say,  "  and  we  shall  have 
done  the  sooner." 

Leicester  played  Endymion  to  England's  Di 
ana,  ingeniously  weaving  at  the  same  time 
various  little  underplots  of  love  with  Diana's 
nymphs.  Arrogant,  unscrupulous,  and  artful,  he 
was  the  most  unpopular  of  statesmen,  and  not 
often  essentially  serviceable ;  but  his  insinuating 
manners,  his  lavish  ostentation,  not  unmingled 
with  generosity,  and  the  partiality  of  the  Queen, 
encircled  his  head  with  a  perpetual  halo.  It  is 
but  justice  to  add,  that  he  was  a  patron  of  letters, 
and  liberal  in  gifts  to  his  church,  which  was  of 
the  new  sect  of  Puritans;  and  that  he  was  always 
most  kind  and  true  to  his  relatives,  especially  to 
his  nephew  Philip,  whom  he  really  loved. 

Lord  Buckhurst  was  a  faithful  and  honorable 
counsellor,  but  chiefly  distinguished  for  his  dram 
atic  and  poetic  talents,  and  as  the  author  of 
Gorboduc,  the  first  tragedy  written  in  the  Eng- 
r 


98  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES  OF 

lish  language,  a  work  highly  commended  by  Pope 
for  its  perspicuous  and  dignified  style. 

Walsingham  was  in  England,  lending  to  state 
affairs,  as  usual,  his  astute  diplomacy  and  sleep 
less  vigilance.  Then  there  was  the  brave  and 
honest  Lord  Hunsdon,  first  cousin  of  the  queen  ; 
somewhat  rough  in  speech,  and  better  pleased 
with  the  freedom  of  the  camp  than  the  tiresome 
punctilios  of  the  court.  The  preeminently  hand 
some  Howard  was  another  royal  relative,  who, 
thirteen  years  later,  conducted  the  attack  upon 
the  terrible  Armada,  and  was  in  consequence 
created  Earl  of  Nottingham.  It  was  to  the  wife 
of  this  nobleman  that  Essex  entrusted  the  cele 
brated  ring  to  which  his  destiny  was  linked  ;  and 
its  fatal  retention  was  owing  to  the  personal 
enmity  of  the  Earl  toward  the  ill-starred  favorite. 

Conspicuous  in  the  tilt-yard,  and  eager  as 
Quixote  himself  in  all  knightly  exercises,  was  Sir 
Henry  Lee — always  the  declared  champion  of 
her  Majesty.  He  was  the  founder  of  the  gallant 
band  of  Knights  Tilters,  who,  numbering  twenty- 
five  of  her  favorite  courtiers,  met  once  a  year  to 
exhibit  their  chivalrous  exploits.  Another  orna 
ment  of  this  romantic  society  wras  the  Earl  of 
Cumberland,  who,  at  tournaments,  proudly  wore 
in  his  high-crowned  hat  a  glove  which  was  be 
stowed  upon  him  by  the  coquettish  vestal  as  he 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  99 

knelt  to  kiss  her  hand,  and  which,  with  flattering 
devotion,  he  immediately  caused  to  be  set  in  dia 
monds.* 

Sir  John  Perrot,  the  gigantic  Apollo,  and  fear 
less  soldier,  was  mostly  occupied  in  Ireland,  vainly 
striving  with  Sir  Henry  Sidney  to  subdue  its  tur 
bulent  inhabitants.  Sir  Francis  Drake  was  in  the 
same  unsatisfactory  service,  but  busily  revolving 
the  renowned  voyage  upon  which  he  entered  two 
years  later.  Raleigh  had  lately  returned  from 
France,  where,  for  six  years  past,  he,  with  a  com 
pany  of  gentlemen  volunteers,  had  lent  his  aid 
to  the  Huguenots.  Though  now  pretending  to 
study  law  in  the  Inner  Temple,  we  must  believe 
that  his  reveries  were  far  less  among  its  musty 
folios  and  parchments,  than  in  the  golden  en 
chantments  and  the  orange  groves  of  America. 
Shakspeare,  eleven  years  old,  was  picking  up  a 
little  Latin  at  the  free  school  in  Stratford ;  and 
Francis  Bacon,  a  youth  of  fifteen,  was  astonish 
ing  the  professors  of  Cambridge  by  his  precocious 
criticisms  upon  their  time-honored  philosophy. 
Then  there  was  Sussex,  brave  soldier  and  honor 
able  counsellor,  always  ready,  in  any  way,  to 
serve  his  country.  Norris,  with  his  five  martial 

*  Petrarch  even  surpassed  the  English  Earl,  for  he  wrote 
four  sonnets  to  express  the  pleasure  he  received  from  picking 
up  Laura's  glove. 


]00  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

brothers,  Sir  Francis  Vere,  Knowles,  Cavendish, 
and  a  host  of  others,  not  forgetting  the  proud 
and  petulant  Lord  Oxford,  who  hereafter  recurs 
to  our  notice  in  a  little  passage-at-arms  with  Sir 
Philip  Sidney.  Heywood,  the  witty  dramatist 
and  popular  favorite,  had  recently  died.  Camden 
was  writing  his  Britannia ;  Stow's  Chronicles  had 
just  appeared,  and  Hollinshed's  came  out  the 
next  year.  Bishops  Jewell  and  Parker  had  passed 
away,  not  long  before;  and  Hooker,  the  "judi 
cious  "  expounder  of  ecclesiastical  law,  was  young 
and  unnoticed. 

History  bestows  high  praise  upon  the  "  sweet 
hearts  and  wives "  of  England  in  that  era. 
Strype  writes,  of  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  "  It 
is  now  no  strange  matter  to  hear  gentlewomen, 
instead  of  vain  communication  about  the  moon 
shining-  in  the  water,  use  grave  and  substantial 
talk  in  Latin  or  Greek  of  godly  matters.  It  is 
now  no  news  for  young  damsels  in  noble  houses 
and  in  the  courts  of  princes,  instead  of  cards  and 
other  instruments  of  idle  trifling,  to  have  con 
tinually  in  their  hands  either  Psalms,  Homilies, 
and  other  devout  meditations,  or  else  Paul's 
Epistles,  or  some  book  of  holy  Scripture;  and 
as  familiarly  to  read  or  reason  thereof  in  Greek, 
Latin,  French,  or  Italian,  as  in  English."  Al 
though,  twenty-five  years  later,  the  court  of  Eliz- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  101 

abeth  was  marked  by  strict  decorum,  there  was 
a  decided  relaxing,  if  not  from  the  austere  vir 
tues,  at  least  from  the  solemn  occupations,  of  her 
brother's  reign.  We  hear  marvellous  stories  of 
the  Queen's  reading  the  Greek  Testament  daily, 
and  entertaining  her  maidens  with  Seneca  and 
Socrates,  as  they  plied  the  needle  in  embroidery ; 
and  we  are  told  that  the  daughters  of  duchesses 
alternated  the  classics  with  the  preparation  of 
savory  viands  and  perfumed  waters,  for  medicine 
or  the  toilet.  But  the  ladies  of  the  court  were 
doubtless  fully  occupied  with  the  pageants  and 
processions,  the  bear-baitings,  and  excursions  in 
gilded  barges  on  the  Thames,  the  royal  pro 
gresses  from  one  castle  to  another,  the  tourneys 
and  festivals  which  served  to  keep  the  Queen 
before  the  people.  Everybody  is  familiar  with 
their  fantastic  attire;  with  the  huge  fardingales 
and  starched  *  ruffs,  the  perfumed  gloves,  with  air 
holes  stamped  in  the  palrn  to  release  the  perspir 
ation,  the  vast  fans  of  ostrich  feathers  sunk  in 
handles  of  gold  or  silver  half  a  yard  long,  the 

*  Stubbes,  a  sarcastic  writer  of  the  17th  century,  says  of 
this  new  innovation :  "  One  arch  or  piller  wherewith  the 
devil's  kyngdom  of  great  ruffes  is  propped,  is  a  certaine  kind 
of  liquid  matter  which  they  call  startche ;  wherein  the  devil 
hath  learned  them  to  wash  and  die  their  ruffes,  which  being 
•irie,  will  stand  stiff  and  inflexible  about  their  neckes." 


102  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

little  mirror  hanging  from  the  girdle,  and  the 
coquettish  love-lock  thrown  over  the  shoulder, 
with  a  flower  fastened  to  the  end.  We  remem 
ber  the  three  thousand  dresses  and  eighty  wigs 
of  "  Queen  Bess,"  and  her  judicious  reproofs 
of  the  extravagance  of  her  subjects ;  and 
smile  at  the  inventory  of  remarkable  silks  em 
broidered  with  birds,  beasts,  bees,  caterpillars, 
spiders,  flies,  snakes  and  grasshoppers,  suns  and 
fountains,  trees  and  clouds,  and  one,  allegorically 
covered  with  eyes.* 

London  had  only  60,000  inhabitants,  and  there 
was  consequently  a  very  neighborly  feeling  among 
its  citizens.  The  picturesque  old  timber  houses 
were  built  with  gable  roofs,  oriel  windows,  gilt 
vanes,  and  immense  carved  chimney-pieces. 
Tapestry  and  wooden  panels  were  giving  way 
to  plaster,  on  which  a  contemporary  writer  thus 
delightedly  expatiates :  "  Beside  the  delectable 
whitenesse  of  the  stuffe  itself,  it  is  laid  on  so 
even  and  smoothlie,  as  nothing  in  my  judgment 
can  be  done  more  exactly." 

Wealth  was  displayed  in  quantities  of  silver- 
plate,  in  mirrors  from  Venice  and  clocks  from 
Germany ;  but  carpets  had  not  yet  entirely  super 
seded  the  rushes  that  littered  even  palatial  floors. 
The  table  was  divided  by  a  large  salt-cellar, 
*  Nichols's  Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


SIE  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  103 

above  which  were  the  seats  of  honor,  the  choice 
viands,  and  the  Muscadel  and  Hippocras,  spark 
ling  in  Venice  goblets  ;  and  below,  the  humble 
guests  and  poor  kinsmen  were  content  with  ale, 
and  coarser  fare.  Knives  were  a  recent  luxury, 
and  forks  still  unknown.  Dinner  was  at  eleven 
or  twelve,  and  in  country  houses  dessert  was 
eaten  in  the  garden  bowers.  Evening  prayers 
came  at  five  or  six,  supper  followed,  and  the  night 
closed  with  merry  sports  or  the  minstrelsy  of 
blind  harpers.* 

The  streets  of  London  were  lighted  by  in 
dividual  agency,  each  family  hanging  out  its 
lanthorn.  The  Thames  was  a  clear  stream, 
upon  which  4,000  watermen  plied  their  craft. 
Coaches  were  not  introduced  until  1580,  and 
were  then  regarded  as  an  effeminate  innovation. 
"  I  wonder,"  says  one  of  those  old  writers,  "  why 
our  nobility  cannot  in  fair  weather  walk  the 
streets  as  they  were  wont ;  as  I  have  seen  the 

*  An  extract  from  one  of  Massinger's  plays  gives  us  some 
idea  of  the  prodigality  of  delicate  viands  that  crowded  the 
tables  of  the  wealthy. 
"  Men  may  talk  of  country  Christmasses, 
Their  thirty  pound  buttered  eggs,  their  pies  of  carp's  tongues, 
Their  pheasants  drenched  with  ambergris,  the  carcasses 
Of  three  fat  wethers  bruised  for  gravy,  to 
Make  sauce  for  a  single  peacock,  yet 
Their  feasts  were  fasts,  compared  to  the  city's." 


104  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES  OF 

Earls  of  Cumberland,  Essex,  Shrewsbury,  &c., 
besides  those  inimitable  presidents  of  courage 
and  valor,  Sir  Francis  Drake,  Sir  Philip  Sidney." 
The  ceremonies,  sports,  and  characters  described 
by  Shakspeare,  are  all  faithful  transcripts  of  his 
own  era.  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  was  the  fashion 
able  resort,  each  day,  from  ten  to  twelve,  A.  M., 
and  from  three  to  six,  p.  M.  There  sauntered  the 
Mercutios  and  Gratianos  to  sport  their  jewelled 
rapiers,  to  learn  the  news,  (for  newspapers,  those 
exhilarating  little  fountains  of  gossip,  had  not 
appeared,)  *  to  make  appointments,  to  offer  chal 
lenges  for  the  duello,  to  barter,  and  to  bribe. 
Falstaff  says  of  Bardolph,  "  I  bought  him  at  St. 
Paul's."  The  middle  aisle  was  the  grand  arena 
where  gallants  displayed  their  silk  cloaks  and 
scented  doublets,  their  Italian  lace  collars  and 
spangled  plumes,  their  peach-colored  hose,  fringed 

*  It  is  asserted  that  the  first  English  newspaper  was  pub 
lished  in  London  in  1588,  and  called  "  The  English  Mer- 
curie."  An  extract  from  one  of  its  early  numbers  preserved 
in  the  British  Museum,  is  as  follows :  "  Yesterday  the  Scotch 
Ambassador  had  a  private  interview  with  her  Majesty  and 
delivered  a  letter  from  his  Master,  containing  the  most  cordial 
assurance  of  adhesion  to  her  Majesty's  interests,  and  to  those 
of  the  Protestant  religion ;  and  the  young  king  said  to  her 
Majesty's  minister  that  all  the  favor  he  expected  from  the 
Spaniards  was  the  courtesy  of  Polyphemus  to  Ulysses,  that  he 
should  be  devoured  the  last." 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  105 

garters,  and  golden  spurs ; — the  selections  of  so 
many  foreign  marts  as  to  justify  the  satire  of  an 
artist  of  that  time,  who,  when  painting  for  Lord 
Lincoln  the  costumes  of  different  nations,  repre 
sented  English  caprice  by  the  figure  of  a  naked 
man,  perplexedly  regarding  a  pair  of  scissors  and 
numerous  colored  fabrics  heaped  around  him. 

When  quarrels  occurred  at  St.  Paul's,  or  when 
debtors  were  pursued,  the  tomb  of  Warwick  was 
a  sacred  asylum.  In  the  churchyard  was  the 
principal  book  sale  of  London,  for  book-shops 
had  at  that  time  no  existence.* 

Rosemary  was  handed  round  at  funerals. 
"  Here's  rosemary,  that's  for  remembrance,"  says 
Ophelia.  "  I  pray  you,  love,  remember."  Wine 
was  offered  in  churches  after  weddings,  and 
theatrical  companies  performed  both  then  and 
at  christenings.  Strolling  players,  in  motley 
colors,  continually  paraded  the  streets  of  Lon 
don,  and  delighted  the  courtiers.  Thornbury 
tells  us  that  "  Ben  Jonson  played  Hieronymo 
with  such  a  troupe,  and  in  a  leather  doublet, 
drove  the  wagon  of  stage  properties."  The 
theatres  were  on  the  rudest  principle  of  con 
struction;  the  floors  were  strewed  with  rushes, 
the  scenery  never  movable,  and  ludicrously  bad. 
If  a  temple  or  a  palace  was  required,  the  au 
*  Drake's  4i  Shakspeare  and  his  Times." 


106  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

dience  were  quietly  told  to  suppose  it.  A  Thebes 
or  a  Troy  by  the  same  imaginative  power,  lay 
behind  a  door,  on  which  the  name  was  printed 
in  large  letters.  "  Exit  Venus,  or  if  you  can,  let 
a  chair  come  down  from  the  top  and  draw  her 
up."  *  Ladies  were  never  present  at  these  per 
formances,  and  the  parts  of  women  were  acted 
by  boys.f  But,  as  Thornbury  says  of  bear-bait 
ing,  "  the  amusements  that  could  please  such 
minds  as  Burleigh's  and  Bacon's,  are  not  to  be 
sneered  at  in  the  nineteenth  century." 

We  are  tempted  to  extract  from  this  entertain 
ing  writer  some  curious  specimens  of  the  cus 
tomary  language  of  court  and  city  gallants. 

*  Knight's  Pictorial.     Collier's  Annals  of  the  Stage. 

f  Sir  Philip  Sidney  in  his  Defence  of  Poesy,  thus  ridicules 
the  violation  of  the  dramatic  unities  of  time  and  place, — 

"  You  have  Asia  of  the  one  side  and  Africa  of  the  other, 
and  so  many  other  kingdoms  that  the  player  when  he  comes 
in,  must  ever  begin  with  telling  where  he  is,  or  else  the  tale 
will  not  be  conceived.  Now  shall  you  have  three  ladies  walk 
to  gather  flowers,  and  then  we  must  believe  the  stage  to  be  a 
garden.  By  and  by  we  hear  of  shipwreck  in  the  same  place, 
then  we  are  to  blame  if  we  accept  it  not  for  a  rock.  Upon 
the  back  of  that  comes  out  a  hideous  monster  with  fire  and 
smoke,  and  then  the  miserable  beholders  are  bound  to  take  it 
for  a  cave  ;  while  in  the  mean  time,  two  armies  fly  in,  repre 
sented  with  four  swords  and  bucklers,  and  then,  what  hard 
heart  will  refuse  to  receive  it  for  a  pitched  field  ?  " 


SIR  PHILIP    SIDNEY.  107 

A  lady's  solitude  is  invaded  by  one  of  these 
daintily- dressed  creatures,  who  thus  addresses 
her, — "  Madam,  your  beauties  being  so  attrac 
tive,  I  wonder  that  you  are  left  thus  alone." 

"  Better  be  alone,  Sir,  than  ill  accompanied." 

"  Naught  can  be  ill,  lady,  that  can  come  near 
your  goodness,  for,  sweet  Madam,  on  what  part 
of  you  soever  a  man  casts  his  eye,  he  meets  with 
perfection.  You  are  the  lively  image  of  Venus 
throughout  ;  the  graces  smile  in  your  cheeks, 
your  beauty  nourishes  as  well  as  delights.  You 
have  a  tongue  steeped  in  honey,  and  a  breath 
like  a  panther ;  a  cloud  is  not  soft  as  your  skin  ; 
your  cheeks  are  Cupid's  baths  wherein  he  uses 
to  steep  himself  in  milk  and  nectar;  he  does 
light  his  torches  at  your  eyes,  and  instructs  you 
how  to  shoot  and  wound  with  his  beams.  Yet 
I  love  in  you  nothing  more  than  your  innocence  ; 
you  retain  so  native  a  simplicity,  so  unblamed  a 
behavior.  Methinks  with  such  a  love  I  should 
find  no  head  or  foot  of  my  pleasure.  You  are 
the  very  spirit  of  a  lady." 

Even  this  strained  affectation  gives  but  a 
scanty  idea  of  the  elaborate  ceremonial  of  the 
age's  politeness. 

At  the  passage  of  a  door  you  must  imagine 
tedious  bowing  and  shaking  of  legs,  and  waving 
of  hats,  and, 


103  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

"'Tis  yours,  Sir." 

"  With  your  example,  Sir." 

«  Not  I,  Sir  ! " 

"  It  is  your  right." 

"  By  no  possible  means." 

"  You  have  the  way." 

"  As  I  am  noble !  " 

"  As  I  am  virtuous !  " 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir !  " 

"I  will  die  first!" 

"  You  are  a  tyrant  in  courtesy ! " 
all    this  to   be  ended   by   some  one  as  wise  as 
Master  Slender  stepping  in  briskly  with, 

"  I'd  rather  be  unmannerly  than  troublesome. 
By  your  leave,  Sir."  * 

It  was  etiquette  during  this  reign,  for  lovers  to 
assume  by  certain  negligences  of  dress  that  the 
tender  passion  had  absorbed  their  thoughts  and 
driven  them  to  despondency.  Rosalind  says  to 
Orlando  in  As  You  Like  It,  "  There's  none  of 
my  Uncle's  marks  upon  you ;  he  taught  me  how 
to  know  a  man  in  love.  Your  hose  should  be 
ungartered,  your  bonnet  unbanded,  your  sleeve 
unbuttoned,  your  shoe  untied,  and  every  thing 
about  you  demonstrating  a  careless  desolation.'1 
Yet  these  men  blended  with  their  fantastic 

*  Thornbury's  Shakspeare's  England. 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  109 

knight-errantry  the  stanch  patriotism,  the  un 
flinching  courage,  the  religious  fervor  that  would 
lead  them  over  untried  seas  to  unknown  lands, 
sustain  them  in  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition, 
and  nerve  them  for  the  field  of  battle. 

We  must  not  omit  to  mention  another  element 
of  the  times  which  tinged  with  its  mystical  shadow 
some  ot  the  wisest  minds  in  Europe.  The  alche 
mist  still  promised  to  distil  from  his  crucible  the 
philosopher's  stone  and  the  elixir  of  life,  Paracel 
sus  was  revered  in  Germany,  and  Dr.  Dee,  the 
astronomer  and  geometrician,  cast  nativities  under 
the  patronage  of  Leicester  and  the  Queen.  A 
hundred  years  before,  it  was  asserted  in  Germany 
that  the  product  of  burned  Jews  would  be  pure 
gold,  twenty-four  bodies  being  equivalent  to  ten 
pounds  of  the  precious  metal ;  and  even  in  1600, 
Bacon  and  Shakspeare  spoke  with  respect  of 
astrologic  art  and  planetary  influences. 

And  now,  in  the  midst  of  this  picturesque  gen 
eration,  we  see  again  the  accomplished  and  loyal 
gentleman,  for  whose  sake  we  have  called  up  its 
retreating  shadows.  Philip  Sidney  was  one  of 
those  persons  who  seem  unconsciously  to  wield 
a  strange  magnetism  over  every  one  around  them 
— whose  silence  even  speaks,  and  whose  atmos 
phere  is  redolent  of  a  subtle  charm  that  may  be 
felt  but  not  analyzed,  remembered  but  not  com- 


HO  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

prehended.  In  the  language  of  Fuller  we  are 
told,  "  he  became  so  essential  to  the  English 
Court  that  it  seemed  maimed  without  his  com 
pany."  Whether  discoursing  with  serene  old 
Burleigh  and  dark-browed  Walsingham,  or 
throwing  the  lance  with  Cumberland  and  Lee, 
or  repeating,  in  his  low,  musical  tones,  (for  his 
voice  was  one  of  surpassing  sweetness,)  stories 
of  Venice  and  Vienna  to  the  listening  maids  of 
honor,  his  was  ever  the  happy  presence  that 
irradiated  and  cheered. 

"  Was  never  eie  did  see  that  face, 
Was  never  eare  did  heare  that  tonge, 
Was  never  minde  did  minde  his  grace, 
That  ever  thought  the  travell  long ; 
But  eies,  and  eares,  and  ev'ry  thought, 
Were  with  his  sweet  perfections  caught." 

Spenser's  Astrophel. 

The  nephew  of  Leicester  was  sure  of  a  gra 
cious  reception  from  the  Queen ;  but  her  pene 
tration  soon  discerned  his  higher  claims  to  her 
regard,  and,  as  a  preliminary  to  future  honors 
from  her  hand,  she  appointed  him  to  the  courtly 
office  of  her  cupbearer.  It  was  a  part  of  her 
romantic  eclecticism,  a  mixture  perhaps  of  policy 
and  preference,  to  employ  the  gravest  statesmen 
and  most  finished  cavaliers  in  trifling  services 
about  her  sacred  person ;  and  such  duties  were 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  HI 

performed  by  them  with  the  devotion  of  knights- 
templars  on  a  crusade. 

A  few  months  after  Sidney's  return  to  England, 
he  took  part  in  one  of  those  dazzling  pageants 
which  have  been  reflected  for  us  in  the  magic 
mirror  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  The  Queen  had 
bestowed  upon  Lord  Leicester  the  princely  gift 
of  Kenilworth,  and  sometimes  honored  him  with 
a  visit  there ;  but  the  favored  subject,  having 
lately  expended  £60,000  in  enlarging  and  adorn 
ing  it,  again  besought  her  presence  for  a  few  days. 
In  various  pages  of  pompous  declamation,  we 
are  told  how  a  gay  cavalcade  of  belted  knights 
and  lovely  ladies,  numbering  in  all  some  two  or 
three  hundred,  glittered  along  the  broad  avenues, 
and  wound  up  the  sloping  hill,  one  warm  July 
evening ;  and  as  the  warder's  horn  resounded 
from  the  battlements,  the  greeting  shouts  of  re 
tainers  and  bursts  of  joyous  music  welcomed  to 
the  brave  old  Saxon  castle  the  illustrious  daugh 
ter  of  a  long  race  of  kings.  It  were  tedious  to 
attempt  a  repetition  of  the  gorgeous  phantasma 
goria  that  crowded  those  festal  days,  and  trans 
formed  an  English  home  into  a  mythological 
museum.  The  Fauns  and  Satyrs  of  buried  hea 
thenism  suddenly  peopled  its  groves,  and  bent 
reverently  to  the  Christian  Venus ;  mermaids 
emerged  with  dripping  locks  from  the  waters  of 


112  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

its  lake,  to  salute  her  with  laudatory  rhymes; 
Pan  and  Bacchus  poured  libations  at  her  feet. 
On  a  temporary  bridge,  seventy  feet  in  length, 
thrown  from  the  court  to  the  main  building, 
stood  seven  Grecian  divinities,  who  offered,  on 
her  arrival,  various  grotesque  presents — fruits, 
fishes,  cages  of  birds,  silver  bowls  of  grapes  and 
wine,  musical  instruments,  suits  of  armor,  &c. 
explanations  of  which  were  given  in  Latin  verse 
by  a  poet,  clad  in  light  blue  silk.  The  castle 
clocks  were  stopped  at  the  moment  of  her  arrival, 
as  if  Time  itself  were  in  royal  waiting.  Dancing 
and  revels  occupied  each  evening,  while  the  dis 
charge  of  cannon  echoed  through  the  grounds, 
and  fireworks  flashed  amid  the  venerable  trees. 
A  water  pageant  exhibited  the  lady  of  the  lake 
on  an  illuminated  island,  and  a  huge  dolphin 
glided  over  the  waves,  with  Arion  singing  on  his 
back,  and  an  orchestra  of  twenty-four  men  mak 
ing  music  within  his  body.*  The  refined  diver 
sion  of  bear-baiting,  which  even  gentle  women 
then  looked  upon  with  pleasure,  hunting  the  stag, 
tournaments,  and  masques,  crowded  nineteen 
days  of  laborious  amusement. 

We  will   here   give   a   specimen   of  the   last- 
named  performance,  in   a  brief  synopsis   of  the 
Lady  of  May,  which  was  written  by  Philip  Sid- 
*  Laneham's  Kenilworth. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  113 

ney,  at  the  request  of  his  uncle,  when  the  Queen 
visited  his  Castle  of  Wanstead.  Though  ab 
surdly  insipid  to  modern  taste,  we  must  remem 
ber  that  Shakspeare  was  yet  unheard  of,  and  the 
English  theatre,  in  its  crude  beginning. 

Her  Majesty,  while  walking  through  a  grove,  is 
suddenly  accosted  by  one  of  the  maskers  dressed 
as  a  farmer's  wife,  who  falls  upon  her  knees  and 
informs  her  that  her  daughter  is  addressed  by  two 
suitors,  of  such  equally  divided  merits  that  she 
finds  it  impossible  to  choose  between  them  ;  and 
lest  the  rapidly  increasing  jealousy  of  the  lovers 
should  meet  a  fatal  termination,  she  entreats  the 
Queen  to  act  as  umpire.  Leaving  an  adulatory 
poem  in  her  Majesty's  hands,  she  disappears, 
and  there  emerge  from  the  wood  a  dozen  shep 
herds  and  foresters,  accompanied  by  the  prize 
of  contention,  the  Lady  of  May.  They  are  all 
smitten  with  admiration  at  the  royal  presence, 
and  one  of  them,  who  is  a  schoolmaster,  deliv 
ers  an  exceedingly  inflated  speech,*  plentifully 

*  Many  of  the  writers  of  this  reign  were  imbued  with  a 
love  of  antithesis  and  declamation,  of  mythological  allusions 
and  far-fetched  metaphors.  One  of  the  most  noted  of  this 
school  was  Lilly,  whose  "  Euphues "  became  the  standard  of 
imitation  and  of  courtly  parlance,  "  she  who  spoke  not  Eu 
phuism  being  as  little  regarded  as  if  she  could  not  speak 
French."  Sir  Philip  ridicules  the  affectation,  in  the  character 


114  THE  L1FE  AND  TIMES  °F 

sprinkled  with  Latin,  in  which  he  repeats  the 
story  of  the  damsel's  mother.  The  Lady  of  May 
very  sensibly  interrupts  him  with  the  exclamation, 
"  Away,  you  tedious  fool,  you  are  not  worthy  to 
look  to  yonder  princely  sight,  much  less  your 
foolish  tongue  to  trouble  her  wise  ears."  She 
then  descants  upon  her  lovers  and  compares  their 
merits,  saying  in  conclusion,  "  Now  the  question 
I  am  to  ask  you,  is,  whether  the  many  deserts 
and  many  faults  of  Therion,  or  the  small  deserts 
and  no  faults  of  Espilus,  be  preferred."  The 
two  swains  here  enter  upon  a  spirited  poetical 
combat,  expressive  of  their  devotion  to  their 
ladye  love,  and  their  detestation  of  each  other 
Espilus  then  kneels  to  the  Queen  and  sings, 

"  Judge  you,  to  whom  all  beauty's  force  is  lent," 
and  Therion  adds, 

"  Judge  you  of  Love,  to  whom  all  love  is  bent/' 

Hereupon  the  shepherds  fall  into  a  hot  dispute 
in  regard  to  the  rival  candidates,  in  which  Rom- 
bus,  the  pompous  schoolmaster,  again  engages. 
The  rustic  farce  closes  with  the  Queen's  decis 
ion  in  favor  of  Espilus,  followed  by  a  full  chorus 
from  the  band,  and  a  song  of  joy  from  the  grate 
ful  swain. 

of  Rombus,  this  schoolmaster,  as  did  Shakspeare,  subsequently, 
in  the  Holofernes  of  Love's  Labor  Lost. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  115 

But  while,  with  dignified  grace,  Philip  Sidney 
bore  a  part  in  these  fantastic  ceremonials,  his 
thoughtful  mind  turned  to  far  different  themes. 
Across  the  waters  of  the  North  Sea  swept  the 
heroic  shouts  of  the  armies  of  the  Netherlands, 
and  from  Germany  and  France  floated,  in  thrill 
ing  tones,  the  cry  of  the  oppressed.  The  ear 
of  Sidney  listened,  and  his  heart  panted  for 
action.  Taught  from  childhood  to  revere  the 
Protestant  faith,  his  reverence  was  sublimed  to 
love,  and  baptized  with  undying  fire,  on  the  sacri 
ficial  altar  of  St.  Bartholomew.  His  association 
for  three  years  with  the  Protestants  of  the  conti 
nent,  his  intimacy  with  Hubert  Languet,  and  his 
own  lofty  sense  of  justice,  continually  deepened 
his  sympathy  and  zeal.  He  knew  that  the  con 
flict  was  not  for  religion  only.  It  was  for  politi 
cal,  social,  and  mental  emancipation  from  a 
tyranny  which  wound  its  serpent  folds  around 
both  soul  and  substance,  stifling  the  senses  and 
stupefying  the  brain.  He  remembered  that  this 
was  the  third  great  insurrection  of  free  thought 
against  papal  domination.  The  bones  of  the 
Albigensian  martyrs,  bleaching  in  the  valleys  of 
the  south  of  France,  told  the  hopeless  story  of 
the  first ;  the  fires  that  consumed  Huss  and  his 
disciples  were  the  fierce  holocaust  of  the  second  ; 
and  he  felt  that  the  present  struggle  was  the  most 


116  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

desperate,  the  most  important,  and  perhaps  the  last. 
A  glorious  battle-ground  invited  the  young  and 
brave  of  Europe  ;  the  competitors  were  kings  and 
kingly  men ;  the  prizes  were  liberty,  fame,  and  the 
benedictions  of  those  whom  their  prowess  should 
make  free.  It  was  hard  for  an  enthusiastic,  high- 
souled  man  to  tinkle  the  guitar  for  ladies'  pleas 
ure,  while  the  laurels  of  such  a  field  awaited  the 
brow  of  the  victor — to  throw  the  lance  in  jesting 
tourney,  while,  across  a  narrow  sea,  the  cham 
pions  of  Truth  contended  in  the  lists  of  life  and 
death.  It  was  once  well  said,  "  the  duties  of 
life  are  more  than  life  itself;"  and  perhaps  no 
part  of  Sidney's  character  gleams  with  a  brighter 
moral  than  his  patient  self-control  and  manly 
acquiescence,  through  long  years  of  waiting  upon 
the  caprice  of  his  arbitrary  Queen.  His  repeated 
solicitations  for  employment  abroad  were  met, 
as  will  be  hereafter  shown,  by  repeated  refusals. 
•'  She  would  not  further  his  advancement,"  says 
Naunton,*  "  because  she  feared  to  lose  the  jewel 
of  her  times." 

In  the  year  1576,  however,  she  sent  him  on  an 
embassy  to  the  court  of  Vienna,  to  condole  with 
the  new  Emperor  Rodolph  II.  on  the  death  of 
his  father  Maximilian,  and  to  congratulate  him 
on  his  own  accession.  This,  at  least,  was  the 
*  Fragmenta  Regalia. 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  117 

ostensible  object  of  the  embassy ;  the  real  object 
was  to  effect  a  coalition  between  England  and 
the  Protestant  states  of  Germany  against  the 
Catholic  powers.  We  are  told  that  Elizabeth, 
with  her  usual  pride  of  externals,  had  much 
regard  to  the  handsome  face  and  figure  of  her 
ambassador,  but  she  also  saw,  as  did  Walsingham 
and  Burleigh,  that  among  the  young  sons  of 
England  they  could  not  find  another  who  united 
the  persuasive  address,  the  integrity  and  talent  re 
quisite  for  a  mission  of  delicate  diplomacy  in  a 
foreign  land.  He  departed  with  a  splendid  retinue, 
and  travelled  in  great  state  through  Germany. 
On  all  the  houses  which  he  occupied,  there  was 
affixed  a  tablet  bearing  the  arms  of  his  family 
and  the  following  grandiloquent  inscription  : — 

Illustrissimi  et  generosissimi  viri 

Philippi  Sidnaei  Angli, 
Pro-regis  Hiberniae  filii,  comitis    Warwici, 
Et  Leicestriae  nepotis,  serenissimae 
Reginae  Angliae  ad  Cesarem  legati.* 

*  Of  the  most  noble  and  illustrious 

Philip  Sidney  of  England, 
Son  of  the  Governor  of  Ireland,  kinsman  of  Warwick, 

And  nephew  of  Leicester,  Ambassador 

To  the  Emperor  of  Germany  from  her  Serene  Highness 

The  Queen  of  England. 


118  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

The  new  emperor  received  him  with  great 
courtesy,  listening  graciously  to  the  messages  of 
royal  sympathy  on  the  demise  of  "that  excellent 
sovereign,  his  Father,"  mingled  with  expressions 
of  hope  that  his  own  reign  would  be  equally  wise 
and  prudent.  His  reply,  which  was  in  Latin, 
briefly  avowed  his  intention  to  imitate  the  pater 
nal  example,  and  his  grateful  sense  of  the  atten 
tion  of  the  English  Queen. 

The  next  day  Sidney  had  an  interview  with 
the  empress,  the  widow  of  Maximilian.  Of  that, 
and  of  his  adroit  accomplishment  of  one  of  the 
objects  of  his  mission,  he  thus  writes  in  an  official 
letter  to  Walsingham  : — 

"  I  delivered  her  Majesty's  letter  to  the  Empress, 
with  the  singular  signification  of  her  Majesty's 
great  good  will  unto  her,  and  her  Majesty's  re 
quest  of  her  to  advise  her  son  to  a  wyse  and 
peaceable  governmente.  Of  the  Emperor  deceased 
I  used  but  few  wordes,  because  in  troth  I  saw  it 
bredd  some  troble  unto  her,  to  hear  him  mentioned 
in  that  kinde.  She  answered  me  with  many 
courteouse  speeches,  and  greate  acknowledging 
of  her  own  beholdingnesse  to  her  Majestic.  Arid 
for  her  son,  she  said,  she  hoped  he  wold  do  well, 
but  that  for  her  own  parte,  she  had  given  herselfe 
from  the  world,  and  woolde  not  greatly  sturr 
from  thenceforward  in  it.  Then  did  I  deliver  the 


SIE  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  H9 

Queen  of  Fraunce's  letter,  she  standing  by  the 
Empresse,  using  such  speeches  as  I  thought  were 
fitt  for  her  double  sorrow,  had  her  Majesty's  good 
will  unto  her  confirmed  by  her  wise  and  noble 
governynge  of  herself  in  the  tyme  of  her  being  in 
Fraunce.  Her  answer  was  full  of  humbleness, 
but  she  spake  so  low  that  I  coulde  not  under- 
stande  many  of  her  wordes.* 

"  From  them  I  went  to  the  yonge  princes,  and 
past  of  each  'syde  certaine  complimentes,  which 
I  will  leave,  because  I  feare  me  I  have  alreddy 
bene  overlonge  there.  The  rest  of  the  daies  that 
I  lay  there,  I  informed  myself  as  well  as  I  coolde 
of  such  particularities  as  I  received  in  my  in 
structions  ;  as  1,  of  the  Emperor's  disposition,  and 
his  brethren ;  2,  By  whose  advice  he  is  directed ; 
3,  When  it  is  likely  he  should  many ;  4,  What 
princes  in  Jerrnany  are  most  affected  to  him ; 
5,  In  what  state  he  is  left  for  revenews ;  6,  What 
good  agrement  there  is  betwixt  him  and  his 

*  This  good  and  beautiful  daughter  of  Maximilian  II.  was 
married  to  Charles  IX.  in  1570,  and  Sidney  was  consequently 
known  to  her  in  Paris.  She  must  have  discovered  in  her 
sanguinary  husband  that  spark  of  the  divine  said  to  exist  in 
the  most  diabolical  characters,  for  her  attachment  to  him  was 
enduring  and  sincere.  Having  promised  him  on  his  death 
bed  never  to  marry  again,  she  soon  after  built  a  convent  and 
there  spent  the  remainder  of  her  life. 


120  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES    OF 

brethren ;  7,  And  what  partage  they  have.  In 
these  thinges  I  shall  at  my  returne  more  largely 
be  liable  and  with  more  leysure  to  declare  it 
Now  only  this  much  I  will  treble  you  withe,  that 
the  Emperor  is  wholly  by  his  inclination  given 
to  the  warres,  few  of  wordes,  sullain  of  disposi 
tion,  very  secrete  and  resolute,  nothinge  the  man- 
nerse  his  father  had  in  winninge  men  in  his  be 
haviour,  but  yet  constant  in  keeping  them ;  and 
such  a  one,  as,  though  he  promise  not  much 
outwardly,  but  as  the  Latins  say,  aliquid  in 
recessu;  his  brother  Earnest  much  lyke  him  in 
disposition,  but  that  he  is  more  franke  and  for 
ward,  which  perchaunce  the  necessity  of  his 
fortune  argues  him  to  be ;  both  extremely  Spanio- 
lated." 

Sidney  rightly  divined  the  character  of  Ro- 
dolph  II.,  who  proved  himself  an  unworthy  suc 
cessor  to  his  humane  and  accomplished  father. 
A  bigoted  Catholic,  and  utterly  neglectful  of  the 
duties  of  a  sovereign,  he  divided  his  time  between 
his  laboratory  and  his  stables — yet  never  mount 
ing  his  horses,  which  were  numerous  and  magni 
ficent.  Tycho  Brahe  having  cast  his  horoscope 
and  predicted  his  death  by  the  hand  of  his  own 
son,  he  foreswore  marriage,  and  slept  in  a  room 
barred  like  a  prison  of  state. 

After  leaving  Vienna,  Sidney  visited  at  Heidel- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  121 

burg  the  Elector  Palatine,  a  brother  of  Rodolph. 
He  writes  again:  "I  had  from  her  Majesty  to 
condole  with  the  Elector,  and  to  perswade  him 
to  unite  with  his  brother." — "  One  thing  I  was 
tolde  to  add  in  my  speeche,  to  desyre  him  in  her 
Majesty's  name,  to  have  merciful  consideration  of 
the  church  of  the  religion  .so  notably  established 
by  his  father,  as  in  all  Jermany,  there  is  not  such 
a  number  of  excellente  learned  men,  and  truly  it 
woold  rue  any  man  to  see  the  desolation  of 
them.  I  laide  before  him  as  well  as  I  coolde,  the 
dangers  of  the  mightiest  princes  of  Christendom, 
by  entering  into  lyke  violent  changes — the  wronge 
he  should  doe  his  worthy  father,  utterly  to  abolish 
that  he  had  instituted,  and  so,  as  it  were,  con- 
demne  him,  besydes  the  example  he  shoolde  give 
his  posterity  to  handle  him  the  like." 

Returning  through  the  Netherlands,  Sidney 
made  the  personal  acquaintance  of  the  greatest 
man  of  that  age  of  greatness, — the  pillar  of  light 
to  the  cloud-wrapped  hosts  of  Holland, — William 
of  Orange.  It  were  needless  to  speak  at  length 
of  the  grand  virtues,  and  the  patriotic  achieve 
ments,  which  have  lately  been  made  universally 
familiar  in  the  spirit-stirring  pages  of  the  "  Rise 
of  the  Dutch  Republic."  Sidney  had  followed 
them  from  afar  with  admiring  veneration,  and 
now,  as  he  looked  upon  the  care-worn  figure  in  its 


122  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

severely  simple  garb,  and  on  the  benignant  face 
which  anxiety  had  furrowed  at  forty-three,  the 
lighter  adornments  of  inferior  men  seemed  to 
melt  away  before  the  calm,  comprehensive  strength 
of  this  matchless  character.  He  had  the  happi 
ness,  not  merely  of  his  acquaintance,  but  of  his 
cordial  friendship;  and  the  loftiest  tribute  to 
Philip  Sidney  was  that  paid  by  William  the 
Silent,  when  he  called  him,  with  habitual  love  and 
deference,  "  My  Master,"  and  pronounced  him 
"  one  of  the  ripest  and  greatest  counsellors  of  that 
day  in  Europe."*  They  never  met  again,  but 
corresponded  for  several  years  on  current  politi 
cal  affairs.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  none 
of  these  letters  can  now  be  discovered. 

History  may  be  searched  in  vain  for  a  more 
discordant  contrast  to  the  hero  of  Orange,  than 
Don  John  of  Austria,  the  Spanish  Governor  of 
the  Low  Countries.  From  the  cradle  to  the 
grave,  the  life  of  this  gay,  ambitious,  fascinating 
adventurer  was  one  of  perpetual  romance.  He 
owed  his  talents  to  his  father,  the  Emperor 
Charles  V.;  his  beauty  and  his  boldness  to  his 
mother,  a  laundress  of  Ratisbon.  Reared  by  a 
peasant  in  Spain,  he  never  dreamed  that  imperial 
blood  coursed  through  his  veins,  until,  at  the  age 
of  fourteen,  while  witnessing  a  royal  hunt,  he  was 
*  Fulke  Greville's  Life  of  Sidney. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  123 

astonished  by  a  brotherly  embrace  from  Philip 
II.,  and  the  assurance  of  his  own  august  birth. 
A  careful  education  developed  his  physical  and 
mental  capacities,  and,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three, 
he  was  one  of  the  handsomest,  haughtiest,  and 
most  accomplished  men  in  Europe.  His  military 
career  began  in  Granada,  where  for  two  years  he 
carried  on  a  crusade  less  glorious  than  vindictive. 
In  1571,  the  guns  of  Lepanto  echoed  his  fame 
throughout  the  world,  and  the  brilliant  courage 
which  won  the  greatest  naval  victory  of  modern 
times,  became  the  terror  of  the  Turks  and  the 
admiration  of  Christendom.  In  the  elation  of 
success,  he  made  a  descent  upon  Barbary,  cap 
tured  Tunis,  and  demanded  from  the  Pope  the 
crown  and  title  of  king.  Philip  II.,  alarmed  at 
the  ambition  of  his  kinsman,  defeated  the  appli 
cation,  and  hoped  to  engage  his  dangerous  ener 
gies  among  the  insurgents  of  the  Netherlands. 
But  the  young  Crusader  was  now  busy  with 
another  of  those  selfish  and  subtle  fantasies  that 
for  ever  occupied  his  brain.  He  resolved,  by 
prowess  or  by  plot,  to  open  the  prison  doors  of 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  to  marry  the  beautiful 
captive,  dethrone  Elizabeth,  and  rule  over  the 
united  realms.  Many  were  the  high-born  hearts 
that  yielded  to  the  strangely  captivating  knight ; 
and  cavaliers,  seeking  to  imitate  the  careless  grace 


124  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

with  which  the  massive  brown  ringlets  were 
thrown  back  from  his  temples,  called  the  fashion 
by  his  name.  Next  to  the  games  of  love  and 
war,  chess  was  his  favorite,  played  with  living 
men,  who  were  dressed  in  the  uniforms  of  differ 
ent  nations. 

The  haughty  Spaniard  had  no  love  for  Eng 
lishmen,  and  when  their  young  Envoy,  untitled, 
and  unheralded  by  daring  deeds,  was  presented 
to  him  at  Brussels,  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that 
his  greeting  would  be  very  cordial.  But  even 
Don  John's  supercilious  coldness  vanished  before 
that  mingled  dignity  and  sincerity  of  manner, 
which  were  felt  by  all  of  Sidney's  contempora 
ries,  and  which  not  even  the  jealous  and  malig 
nant  could  refuse  to  admire.* 

"  Ne  spight  itself,  that  all  good  things  doth  spill, 
Found  aught  in  him  that  she  could  say  was  ill." 

The  life  of  this  last  and  most  brilliant  of  the 
crusaders  was  a  succession  of  splendid  failures. 
His  military  exploits  against  the  Moors  and 
Turks  were  rewarded  by  neither  wealth  nor 
power.  He  was  denied  the  sovereignty  of 
Tunis ;  he  failed  in  his  romantic  scheme  of  mar 
rying  Mary  of  Scotland,  and  of  ascending  with 
her  the  double  throne;  he  was  utterly  foiled  in 
*  Fulke  Greville. 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  125 

the  Netherlands  by  the  want  of  troops  and 
money,  and  by  the  superior  tactics  of  William 
of  Orange.  In  1578,  disappointed,  heart-broken, 
and  consumed  by  fever  and  fatigue,  he  wrote 
with  touching  pathos  to  Andrea  Doria  of  Genoa, 
"  They  have  cut  off  our  hands,  and  we  have  now 
nothing  for  it  but  to  stretch  forth  our  heads 
also  to  the  axe." — "  I  consider  you  most  fortu 
nate  that  you  are  passing  the  remainder  of  your 
days  for  God  and  yourself." — "  I  hope  that  you 
will  remember  me  in  your  prayers,  for  you  can 
put  your  trust  where,  in  former  days,  I  never 
could  place  my  own." 

A  few  days  later,  the  hero  of  Lepanto  fought 
the  last  battle  of  earth,  after  a  brief  illness,  in 
which,  like  Napoleon,  his  delirious  fancy  again 
crowned  him  the  head  of  glittering  squadrons, 
and  thrilled  his  ear  with  the  triumphant  shouts 
of  victory.  His  death  was  attributed  to  poison, 
and  grave  suspicions  rest  upon  Philip  II.,  who 
certainly  was  none  too  scrupulous,  or  too  good, 
to  render  the  charge  improbable.* 

*  Some  Protestant  rhymester,  with  more  zeal  than  inspira 
tion,  published  a  long  monody  upon  his  death,  called  "  The 
Pope's  Lamentation."     We  extract  a  few  verses : 
"  O  Heaven  !  O  Earth  !  O  Elaments  ! 

and  all  therein  containde  ; 
Lament  with  me,  poure  forth  your  plaints, 
just  cause  hath  so  constrained ; 


126  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES    OF 

Philip    Sidney   was    complimented   by  several 
splendid    presents   during    his    absence — among 

Sith  cursed  Death,  in  cruel  wise, 

hath  reft  me  my  delight ; 
Don  Joan  of  Austria,  he  that  sought 

By  all  the  means  he  might, 
To  save  my  Church,  and  me  from  harme, 

To  strengthen  my  estate ; 
And  with  his  power  to  punish  those 

that  did  my  doings  hate. 
Come,  come,  my  careful  Cardnalles  now, 

my  Prelates  and  the  rest, 
That  wonted  were  to  wish  me  well, 

I  pray  you  all  be  prest,* 
To  waile  with  woe  the  want  of  him, 

that  during  tearme  of  life 
Neglected  naught  that  might  be  wrought, 

to  make  our  glory  rife  ; 
Alas  !  how  am  I  gript  with  grief, 

what  cares  do  compasse  me, 
For  losse  of  him  whom  I  ordainde 

My  champion  cheefe  to  be  ; 
And  therefore  Death !  I  curse  thee  now, 

and  eke  thy  cruel  dart, 
Which  did  to  that  renowned  Prince 

thy  poysoned  power  impart, 
Those  Huguenots  thou  mightest  have  hitte, 

to  pacify  re  thine  yre  ; 
And  let  this  worthy  wight  alone 

to  further  my  desyre,"  &c. 

*  Keady. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  127 

others,  was  a  massive  gold  chain  from  the  Em 
peror  Rodolph,  and  another,  fastened  with  a 
jewel,  from  the  Prince  of  Orange.  Of  more 
value  were  the  golden  opinions  which  he  won  by 
his  rare  endowments,  and  the  wisdom  and  dex 
terity  with  which  he  accomplished  the  objects  of 
his  mission.  Even  Burleigh,  who  was  unfriendly 
to  Leicester,  and  not  disposed  to  like  any  of  his 
relations,  bestowed  on  him  the  highest  praise. 
This  is  all  pleasantly  told  in  a  letter  from  Wal- 
singham  to  Sir  Henry  Sidney.  "  Now  touching 
your  Lordship's  particular,  I  am  to  impart  unto 
you  the  return  of  the  young  gentleman,  your 
sonne,  whose  message  verie  sufficientlie  per 
formed,  and  the  relatinge  thereof,  is  no  less 
gratefullye  received,  and  well  liked  of  her  Majes 
tic,  than  the  honourable  opinion  he  hath  left 
behinde  him  with  all  the  princes  with  whome  he 
had  to  negotiate,  hathe  left  a  most  sweet  savor 
and  grateful  remembraunce  of  his  name  in  those 
parts.  The  gentleman  hath  given  no  small  ar 
guments  of  great  hope,  the  fruits  whereof  I  doubt 
not  your  Lordship  shall  reape,  as  the  benefitt  of 
the  good  parts  that  are  in  him,  and  whereof  he 
hath  given  some  taste  in  this  voyage,  is  to  re- 
dounde  to  more  than  your  Lordship  and  himself. 
There  hath  not  ben  any  gentleman,  I  am  sure, 
these  many  yeres,  that  hathe  gon  through  so 


128  THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

honourable  a  charge  with  as  great  commenda- 
cions  as  he;  In  consideration  wherof,  I  could  not 
but  communicate  this  part  of  my  joy  with  your 
Lordship,  being  no  less  refreshinge  unto  me  in 
these  my  troublesome  business,  than  the  soil  is 
to  the  chased  stagge.  And  so  wishing  the  in 
crease  of  his  good  parts  to  your  Lordship's 
comfort,  and  the  service  of  her  Majestic  and 
his  countrie,  I  humbly  take  my  leave.  From 
the  court  at  Greenwich  this  Xth  of  June,  1577. 
"  Your  Lordship's  assured  friend, 

"  FRANCIS   WALSINGHAM." 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  129 


CHAPTER  VI. 

,HEN  through  the  lens  of  literature  we 
look  down  the  long  dim  aisles  where 
glide  the  shadows  of  the  mighty  dead, 
it  often  happens  that  the  eye  is  arrested  by  some 
form  illustrious  in  the  past.  As  we  gaze  and 
ponder,  it  becomes  more  luminous  and  distinct, 
until  it  stands  before  our  quickened  spirit  as  a 
living  presence.  The  exile  from  earth  seems  to 
meet  us  on  the  bridge  that  spans  with  airy  arch 
the  gulf  between  two  worlds.  The  long  silent 
voice  thrills  our  ear,  and  from  beneath  the  lifted 
lid  gleams  the  divine  essence.  But  if  we  would 
daguerreotype  for  other  eyes  the  image  that  en 
chants  our  own,  it  seems  to  shrink  from  the 
material  mirror,  and  with  calm  majesty  to  rebuke 
the  portraiture.  Thus  we  fail  to  describe  what 
we  clearly  see ;  our  clumsy  camera  gives  no  just 
reflection ;  still  our  love  and  reverence  plead  for 
the  effort,  although  we  know  that  it  must  be 
imperfect  and  unsatisfactory.  It  is  deeply  to  be 
regretted  that  the  biographers  of  Philip  Sidney 


130  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF 

have  bequeathed  to  us  so  few  of  those  words  and 
deeds  which  serve  as  outlines  for  a  portrait. 
They  tell  us  how,  in  general  terms,  he  was  the 
pride  and  marvel  of  the  great  and  wise ;  how 
young  gallants  aped  his  fashions  and  quoted  his 
sayings,  and  how  the  hearts  of  lovely  maidens 
fluttered  with  pleasure  at  his  approach.  It  is 
supposed  by  some  that  Shakspeare  thought  of 
Sidney,  when  he  wrote  of  Hamlet, 

"  The  courtier's,  scholar's,  soldier's  eye,  tongue,  sword, 
The  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  state  ; 
The  glass  of  fashion,  and  the  mould  of  form, 
The  observed  of  all  observers." 

But,  though  lavish  of  general  praise,  these  nig 
gard  annalists  have  given  us  none  of  those 
pleasant  trifles  that  glow  with  vitality — the 
table-talk,  the  confiding  household  undisguises, 
the  straws  of  anecdote,  that  show  which  way 
the  mood  moves.  For  this  deficiency  we  weave 
through  our  story  a  thread  of  perpetual  lament. 
Nevertheless,  through  these  vague  generalities 
we  often  see  a  lambent  gleam  of  character ;  such, 
for  example,  as  is  manifest  in  the  brief  account 
of  Sir  Philip's  defence,  soon  after  his  return  from 
Germany,  of  his  father's  administration  in  Ireland. 
Sir  Henry  had  become  unpopular  there  by  levy 
ing  (with  undue  rigor  as  it  was  said)  a  tax  for  the 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  ]31 

maintenance  of  his  own  household,  and  of  her 
Majesty's  troops ;  and  the  representations  made 
to  the  Queen  had  much  excited  her  displeasure. 
With  all  the  fervor  inspired  by  filial  affection,  and 
an  indignant  sense  of  wrong,  Sidney  collected 
the  articles  of  accusation,  and,  in  a  bold  refuta 
tion,  triumphantly  vindicated  the  honor  of  his 
father,  and  effectually  restored  to  him  the  royal 
regard. 

From  this  generous  zeal  arose  an  incident 
which  has  been  mentioned,  as  the  sole  blot  upon 
an  otherwise  faultless  history.  Having  learned 
that  through  some  hidden  spy  the  secrets  of  Sir 
Henry  had  been  betrayed,  he  said  to  his  father, 
"  I  must  needs  impute  it  to  some  about  you,  that 
there  is  little  written  from  you  or  to  you,  that  is 
not  perfectly  known  to  your  professed  enemies." 
Suspicion  fell  upon  Edward  Mollineux,  the  friend 
and  secretary  of  Sir  Henry,  and  the  result  was 
the  following  letter : 
"  MR.  MOLLINEUX, 

"  Few  woordes  are  best.  My  letters  to  my 
father  have  come  to  the  eyes  of  some;  neither 
can  I  condemne  any  but  you  for  it.  If  it  be  so, 
you  have  plaide  the  very  knave  with  me,  and  so 
I  will  make  you  know,  if  I  have  good  proofe  of 
it ;  but  that  for  so  much  as  is  past ;  for  that  is 
to  come,  I  assure  yow  before  God,  that  if  ever  I 


132  THE  LIFE   AND  TIMES   OF 

knowe  you  to  do  so  much  as  to  reede  any  lettre 
I  wryte  to  my  father,  without  his  commandment, 
or  my  consente,  I  will  thruste  my  dagger  into 
yow ;  and  truste  to  it,  for  I  speake  it  in  earnest. 
In  the  mean  tyme,  farewell. 

By  me, 

PHILIPPE  SIDNEY." 

It  is  probable  that  the  charge  here  conveyed 
was  groundless ;  but  if  it  were  true,  as  Sidney 
believed  it  to  be,  it  seems  to  us  that,  judged  by 
the  standard  of  his  age,  and  by  his  own  high 
sense  of  honor,  this  curt  and  pointed  epistle  finds 
sufficient  palliation.  In  the  category  of  dishonor, 
next  to  an  actual  betrayal  of  trust,  should  be 
ranked  such  an  act  of  meanness  as  extorted  this 
indignant  rebuke ;  nor  can  the  menace  surprise 
us  from  one  who  felt,  to  use  his  own  lofty  words, 
that  "  death  is  a  less  evil  than  betraying  a  trust 
ing  friend."  Besides,  when  the  rapier  and  the 
sword  were  girded  in  the  belt  of  every  cavalier, 
not  only  for  ornament,  but  for  use,  and  thrusts 
and  cuts  were  things  of  light  exchange;  and 
when  the  Queen  herself  did  not  scruple  to  box 
the  ears  of  her  lords  in  waiting,  or  to  strike  and 
pinch  her  maids  of  honour,  it  seemed  rather  cred 
itable  to  Sidney  that,  instead  of  personal  alterca 
tion,  he  expressed  at  the  outset,  with  the  frank 
ness  of  a  true  gentleman,  his  displeasure  at  the 


SIR  PHILIP    SIDNEY.  133 

offence,  and  his  determination  to  avenge  its 
repetition. 

Sir  Henry  Sidney  was  very  proud  and  happy 
in  his  favorite  son.  He  writes  of  him  about  this 
time  to  Robert,  his  second  son,  then  travelling  on 
the  continent :  "  Follow  the  advice  of  your  loving 
brother,  who  in  loving  you,  is  comparable  with 
me,  or  exceedeth  me.  Imitate  his  virtues,  exer 
cises,  studies  and  actions  ;  he  is  a  rare  ornament 
of  his  age,  the  very  formular  that  all  well-disposed 
young  gentlemen  of  our  court  do  form  also  their 
manners  and  life  by.  In  truth,  I  speak  it  without 
flattery  of  him  or  myself,  he  hath  the  most  vir 
tues  that  ever  I  found  in  any  man.  I  saw  him 
not  these  six  months,  little  to  my  comfort.  Once 
again  I  say,  imitate  him." 

A  letter  in  the  Sidney  papers  from  Philip  to 
his  brother,  so  pleasantly  indicates  his  fraternal 
affection,  that  one  or  two  extracts  cannot  fail  to 
be  read  with  interest.  Speaking  in  one  of  them 
of  his  readiness  to  furnish  pecuniary  aid,  he  says, 
"  There  is  nothing  I  spend  so  pleaseth  me  as  that 
which  is  for  you.  If  ever  I  have  ability,  you  will 
find  it ;  if  not,  yet  shall  not  any  brother  living  be 
better  beloved  than  you  of  me."  After  many 
kind  admonitions  in  regard  to  his  studies,  among 
which  he  advises  him  to  keep  a  common-place 
book  for  making  extracts,  he  adds,  "  Now,  sweet 


134  THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

brother,  take  a  delight  to  keep  and  increase  your 
music.  You  will  not  believe  what  a  want  I  find 
of  it  in  my  melancholy  times." — "  I  would,  by  the 
way,  your  worship  would  learn  a  better  hand. 
You  write  worse  than  I;  and  I  write  evil  enough. 
Once  again  have  a  care  of  your  diet,  and  conse 
quently  of  your  complexion." — "  You  purpose, 
being  a  gentleman  born,  to  furnish  yourselfe  with 
the  knowledge  of  such  things  as  may  be  service 
able  for  your  country  and  calling ;  which  cer 
tainly  stands  not  in  the  change  of  air  (for  the 
warmest  sun  makes  not  a  wise  man)  ;  no,  nor  in 
learned  languages,  (although  they  be  of  service 
able  use,)  for  words  are  but  words,  in  what  lan 
guage  soever  they  be ;  and  much  lesse  in  that  all 
of  us  come  home  full  of  disguisements,  not  only 
of  apparel,  but  of  our  countenances,  (as  though 
the  credit  of  a  traveller  stood  all  upon  his  out 
side,)  but  in  the  right  informing  your  mind  with 
those  things  that  are  most  notable  in  those  places 
which  you  come  into.  For  hard  sure  it  is  to 
know  England,  without  you  know  it  by  compar 
ing  it  with  some  other  country ;  no  more  than  a 
man  can  know  the  swiftness  of  his  horse  without 
seeing  him  well  matched."  Then  follows  some 
advice  about  the  use  of  weapons,  "to  exercise 
your  health  and  strength,  and  make  you  a  strong 
man  at  the  Tourney  and  Barriers.  First  in  any 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  135 

case  practice  with  the  single  sword  and  after 
wards  with  the  dagger.  Let  no  day  pass  without 
an  hour  or  two  such  exercise ;  the  rest  study  and 
confer  diligently,  and  so  shall  you  come  home 
to  my  comfort  and  credit.  Lord!  how  I  have 
babbled  ;  once  again,  farewell,  dearest  brother." 

The  subject  of  these  letters,  though  nearly  for 
gotten  in  the  overshadowing  fame  of  his  elder 
brother,  became  a  distinguished  man.  He  re 
ceived  high  commendations  while  travelling  on 
the  continent,  and  secured  the  friendship  of 
Languet.  He  was  honored  with  knighthood  for 
his  military  prowess  in  the  Netherlands,  and, 
some  time  after,  successively  created  Baron  of 
Penshurst,  Viscount  1'  Isle,  and  Earl  of  Leicester. 
The  celebrated  Algernon  Sidney  was  his  son. 

We  are  told  in  "Old  England's  Worthies" 
that  there  is  preserved  at  Penshurst  "  an  exceed 
ingly  interesting  picture  by  Gerardi,  which  repre 
sents  the  brothers  standing  side  by  side,  their 
arms  linked  together,  the  one  looking  the  Pro 
tector,  and  the  other  the  Protected." 

There  was  another  brother,  named  Thomas,  of 
whom  little  is  known,  except  that  he  was  a  val 
iant  military  officer. 

Mary,  Countess  of  Pembroke,  was  the  only 
sister  of  Philip  Sidney,  and  they  seem  to  have 
been  deeply  and  mutually  attached.  She  is 


136  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

lauded  by  many  writers,  in  both  prose  and  verse, 
as  a  lady  of  surpassing  loveliness  and  intellectual 
attainments.  Ben  Jonson's  familiar  epitaph  we 
have  quoted,  and  Spenser  speaks  of  her  as 

"  Urania,  sister  unto  Astrophel, 
In  whose  brave  mind,  as  in  a  golden  coffer, 
More  rich  than  pearls  of  Ind,  or  gold  of  Ophir, 
And  in  her  sex  more  wonderful  and  rare." 

We  come  now  to  the  most  important  act  of 
Sidney's  life,  one  whose  consequences,  immediate 
and  remote,  upon  England,  and  perhaps  upon 
Europe,  were  of  incalculable  extent, — as  slight 
obstructions  sometimes  change  forever  the  current 
of  a  mighty  stream.  This  was  the  writing  of  a 
letter  to  the  Queen,  dissuading  her  from  a  pro 
jected  alliance  with  the  heir  presumptive  of  the 
crown  of  France.  To  explain  the  story  clearly, 
we  must  go  back  seven  years,  to  the  time  when 
Henry  Valois,  finding  himself  unconquerably 
averse  to  a  union  with  the  august  spinster,  nine 
teen  years  older  than  himself,  suddenly  broke 
away  from  the  matrimonial  web,  much  to  the 
vexation  of  his  mother,  and  the  mortification  of 
the  jilted  fiancee.  But  Catherine  de  Medici 
never  gave  up  a  game  while  a  single  card  re 
mained  to  play.  Anjou  had  failed,  but  Alengon, 
her  youngest  son,  remained.  Nostradamus,  the 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  137 

famous  astrologer,  had  predicted  that  her  four 
sons  should  all  be  crowned  heads,  and  to  verify 
the  prophecy,  one  of  them  must  espouse  the 
Queen  of  England.  Accordingly,  La  Motte 
Fenelon.  the  French  ambassador,  resident  at 
London,  was  instructed  to  present  the  overtures 
of  the  younger  prince.  Never  were  the  arts  of 
flattery  better  practised  than  by  this  most  insin 
uating  and  adroit  of  Frenchmen  ;  and  never, 
despite  the  good  sense  and  dignity  which  she 
manifested  in  many  respects,  was  sovereign  more 
susceptible  to  these  arts  than  Elizabeth. 

The  satisfied  credulity  with  which,  for  ten 
years,  she  received  the  adulation  of  her  boyish 
suitor  and  his  envoys,  and  the  diplomatic  wari 
ness  and  cunning  manifested  on  both  sides,  con 
stitute  one  of  the  most  amusing  passages  in 
history.  There  is  no  probability  that  she  seri 
ously  thought  of  marrying  a  man  twenty-three 
years  younger  than  herself,  puny  in  stature,  re 
pulsively  ugly,  deeply  marked  with  smallpox, 
and  so  weak  and  wicked,  that  his  own  sister, 
Marguerite  of  Valois,  said  of  him,  that  "  if  fraud 
or  cruelty  were  to  be  banished  from  the  earth, 
there  was  in  him  a  stock  sufficient  to  replenish 
the  void."  His  personal  defects  were  sufficient 
objection  with  a  princess  so  fastidious  as  to 


138  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

have  once  refused  the  place  of  gentleman-usher 
to  an  individual  who  simply  lacked  one  tooth, 
and  who  required  that,  in  her  walks  and  rides,  all 
deformed  and  diseased  persons  should  be  care 
fully  kept  out  of  her  sight.  But  this  little  ro 
mance  was  only  another  specimen  of  the  political 
craft  and  feminine  vanity  which  were  blended  in 
most  of  her  actions.  It  not  only  furnished  occa 
sion  to  her  courtiers  to  delight  her  ear  with 
ingenious  variations  upon  her  own  loveliness,  but 
served  to  divert  France  from  forming  an  offensive 
alliance  against  her,  with  Philip  II.  or  the  Pope. 
It  also  agreeably  occupied  her  discontented 
Catholic  peers,  as,  from  the  sullen  solitude  of 
their  castles,  they  wistfully  looked  for  the  release 
of  Mary  of  Scotland,  or  for  some  other  event 
which  should  give  them  a  sovereign  of  their  own 
faith.  The  proposed  match  was  extremely  un 
popular  with  the  Protestants ;  although  Sussex, 
Hurisdon,  Admiral  Lincoln,  and  a  few  others,  were 
its  advocates,  from  the  fear  of  Catholic  combination 
against  Elizabeth,  and  in  favor  of  Mary  Stuart. 
Burleigh,  with  his  usual  sagacious  prevision, 
encouraged  it,  and  even  borrowed  from  astrology 
a  persuasive  prophecy  in  its  favor — thinking,  all 
the  while,  that  the  queen  would  be  amused  with 
this  harmless  dalliance  until  it  was  too  late  for 
her  to  marry  at  all,  and  fully  determined  that 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  ]39 

such  should  be  the  result.  A  very  shrewd  old 
man  was  the  Lord  Treasurer ;  and  a  stormy  time 
he  had  in  managing  his  wilful  mistress,  and  in 
steering  the  ship  of  state  safely  through  the 
breakers  and  shoals  which  obstructed  its  course. 
The  tactics  of  Elizabeth  were  first  displayed  in  a 
demur  to  the  disparity  of  age,  and  in  the  reported 
absence  of  beauty  in  her  proposed  spouse.  Fene- 
lon  was  armed  for  all  objections.  He  reminded 
her  that  Pepin  le  Bref  only  reached  to  the 
girdle  of  his  wife,  Bertha  of  Almain,  and  yet 
their  son  Charlemagne  was  nearly  seven  feet  in 
height.  As  to  the  traces  of  the  smallpox,  they 
would  soon  be  hidden  by  a  beard,  or  perhaps 
removed  by  medical  art;  and  his  youth  was  a 
decided  advantage,  since  he  could  be  the  more 
easily  governed  by  herself  and  her  councillors. 
Then  followed  marvellous  representations  of  the 
ardor  of  this  doughty  knight,  and  frequent  letters 
from  his  own  hands,  replete  with  reverent  adora 
tion.  But,  at  the  end  of  six  years  of  cajoling 
and  evasion,  the  consummation  seemed  as  dis 
tant  as  ever;  and  so  "  Monsieur,"  as  the  English 
called  the  Prince,  (now  the  Duke  of  Anjou,)  sent 
over  a  special  pleader  in  the  person  of  M.  Simier. 
This  was  another  of  the  brilliant  butterflies  whom 
the  queen  liked  to  have  fluttering  about  her,  and 
so  witty  and  agreeable  did  he  prove,  that  she 


140  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

invited  him  constantly  to  her  private  parties,  and 
even  received  him  into  her  confidence.  On  all 
these  occasions,  he  urged  with  great  dexterity  the 
suit  of  his  master,  pathetically  picturing  his  mel 
ancholy  suspense,  and  his  chivalrous  devotion  to 
the  ladye  of  his  love.  At  last,  one  balmy  day  in 
June,  while  this  modern  Diana  sat  placidly  among 
her  lords  and  ladies  in  Greenwich  Palace,  there 
knocked  loudly  at  the  gates,  an  unknown  knight, 
in  close  disguise,  who  craved  admission  to  her 
presence.  The  Duke  himself,  having,  with  the 
romance  of  a  crusader,  crossed  the  channel  with 
only  two  attendants,  now  came  to  learn  defini 
tively  the  result  of  his  long  and  tedious  wooing. 
The  Queen  was  enchanted.  Not  one  of  the 
royal  Jasons  in  quest  of  the  golden  prize  had  ever 
before  courted  her  in  person  ;  neither  Rodolph  of 
Austria,  nor  the  Archduke  Charles,  Eric  of  Swe 
den,  Philip  of  Spain,  nor  Henry  of  Anjou.  This 
bold  suitor  had  outdone  them  all,  and,  despite  the 
smallpox  and  the  ugly  nose,  seemed  likely  to 
outdo  them  still.  During  the  few  days  of  his 
stay,  he  made  such  an  impression  upon  the  sus 
ceptible  maiden  of  forty-six  summers,  that,  a  few 
weeks  later,  she  assembled  her  council  to  deliber 
ate  upon  the  proposed  alliance.  After  much 
grave  consultation,  mingled  with  some  blunt 
asides  about  "  old  maids,"  and  unsuitable  ages, 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  141 

which  were  very  happily  not  overheard  by  the 
venerable  coquette,  they  requested  to  be  "  informed 
of  her  pleasure  on  the  subject,  and  they  would 
endeavor  to  make  themselves  conformable  to  it." 
This  was  by  no  means  a  satisfactory  reply.  She 
was  decidedly  bewitched  with  Monsieur,  and 
anxious  to  receive  the  sanction  of  her  subjects  to 
a  union  with  him.  So  with  a  flood  of  passionate 
tears  she  told  her  ministers  that  she  had  expected 
they  would  show  themselves  highly  pleased  with 
such  remote  foreshadowings  of  an  heir  to  the 
crown  as  her  marriage  might  reasonably  promise; 
and  with  that  she  gave  them  a  petulant  dismissal. 
She  was  in  very  bitter  mood  for  several  days. 
"  The  sun  does  not  shine,"  said  Hatton ;  "  it  is 
no  time  to  present  a  petition."  The  discontent 
of  her  subjects  could  not  be  concealed ;  her  coun 
sellors  gravely  demurred,  and  altogether  there 
was  a  great  struggle  between  her  queenly  wis 
dom  and  her  womanly  will.  At  this  uncomfort 
able  crisis,  she  asked  the  advice  of  Philip  Sidney, 
and  no  doubt  expected  from  the  "  Jewel  of  the 
Times,"  as  she  styled  him,  such  courtly  counsel 
as  would  both  soothe  and  encourage  her.  His 
reply  was  marked  by  a  fearless  independence  and 
excellent  sense  which  have  commanded  for  it 
universal  approval.  Hume  says  it  was  written 
"  with  unusual  elegance  of  expression,  as  well  as 


142  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

force  of  reasoning,"  and  Miss  Aiken  pronounces 
it  "  the  most  eloquent  and  most  courageous  piece 
of  that  nature  which  the  age  can  boast." 

With  loyal  courtesy,  he  addresses  her  as  his 
"  most  feared  and  beloved,  most  sweet  and  gra 
cious  sovereign ;  "  refers  to  conversations  he  had 
formerly  held  with  her  on  the  subject  of  her  mar 
riage,  in  which  she  had  protested  that  "  no 
private  passion  or  self-affection,"  could  lead  her 
to  it;  and  says,  "Now  resteth  to  consider  what 
be  the  motives  of  this  sudden  change,  as  I  have 
heard  you  in  most  sweet  words  deliver."  After 
alluding  to  the  two  religious  factions  in  her  king 
dom,  and  reminding  her  that  the  security  of  her 
own  position  depended  entirely  on  the  affection 
of  her  Protestant  subjects,  to  whom  she  had 
given  the  "  free  exercise  of  eternal  truth,"  he 
says,  "  How  will  their  hearts  be  galled,  if  not 
aliened,  when  they  shall  see  you  take  a  husband, 
a  Frenchman  and  a  Papist,  in  whom  (howsoever 
fine  wits  may  find  further  dealings  or  painted 
excuses)  the  very  common  people  well  know  this  : 
that  he  is  the  son  of  a  Jezebel  of  our  age ;  that 
his  brother  made  oblation  of  his  own  sister's 
marriage,  the  easier  to  massacre  our  brothers  in 
belief;  that  he  himself,  contrary  to  his  promise 
and  all  gratefulness,  having  his  liberty  and  princi 
pal  estate  by  the  Huguenots'  means,  did  sack  La 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  143 

Charite,  and  utterly  spoil  them  with  fire  and 
sword!  This,  I  say,  even  at  first  sight,  gives 
occasion  to  all  truly  religious,  to  abhor  such  a 
master,  and  diminish  much  of  the  hopeful  love 
they  have  long  held  to  you." 

"  The  other  faction,"  he  adds,  "  is  the  Papists  : 
men  whose  spirits  are  full  of  anguish,  on  various 
accounts ;  men  of  great  numbers,  of  great  riches, 
and  of  united  minds.  This  rank  of  people 
want  nothing  so  much  as  a  head,  who,  in  effect, 
needs  not  but  to  receive  their  instructions,  since 
they  may  do  much  mischief  only  with  his  coun 
tenance."  In  strong  terms,  he  pictures  the  en 
mity  of  the  Catholics  to  her  as  a  usurper,  and  as 
excommunicated  by  Papal  edict ;  and  their  joy 
in  the  prospect  of  her  union  with  the  Duke  of 
Anjou,  because,  although  he  was  a  stranger  to 
them,  the  ties  of  creed  and  party  were  then 
stronger  than  all  other  ties. 

Of  the  Duke  himself,  he  speaks  in  no  flattering 
terms.  "  Whether  he  be  not  apt  to  work  on  the 
disadvantage  of  your  estate,  he  is  to  be  judged 
by  his  will  and  power ;  his  will  to  be  as  full  of 
light  ambition  as  is  possible,  beside  the  French 
disposition  and  his  own  education,  his  inconstant 
temper  against  his  brother ;  his  thrusting  himself 
into  the  Low  country  matters ;  his  sometimes 
seeking  the  King  of  Spain's  daughter,  sometimes 


144  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

your  Majesty,  are  evident  testimonies  of  his  being 
carried  away  with  every  wind  of  hope ;  taught  to 
love  greatness  any  way  gotten ;  and  having  for 
the  motioners  and  ministers  of  the  mind  only 
such  young  men  as  have  shewed  they  think  evil 
contentment  a  ground  of  any  rebellion  ;  who 
have  seen  no  commonwealth  but  in  faction,  and 
divers  of  which  have  denied  their  hands  in  odious 
murders.  With  such  fancies  and  favorites,  what 
is  to  be  hoped  for  ?  " 

With  pleading  earnestness,  he  portrays  the 
evils  that  might  overwhelm  the  people  under  the 
rule  of  this  turbulent  prince ;  the  danger  that  their 
interests  would  be  sacrificed  to  his  weakness  or 
ambition ;  and  the  folly  of  presuming  upon  the 
amity  of  the  treacherous  house  of  Valois.  He 
alludes  to  the  alliance  of  her  sister  Mary  with 
Philip  of  Spain,  the  discontent  it  created  in  Eng 
land,  and  its  unhappy  effects  upon  herself;  and 
after  speaking  of  her  own  "  odious  marriage  with 
a  stranger,"  he  adds :  "  If  your  subjects  do  at 
this  time  look  for  any  after-chance,  it  is  but 
as  the  pilot  doth  to  the  ship  boat,  if  his  ship 
should  perish  ;  driven  by  extremity  to  the  one, 
but  as  long  as  he  can  with  his  life,  tendering  the 
other." 

In  a  strain  of  graceful  homage,  he  concludes 
this  spirited  epistle :  "  As  for  this  man,  as  long 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  145 

as  he  is  but  Monsieur  in  might,  and  Papist  in 
profession,  he  neither  can  nor  will  greatly  shield 
you ;  and  if  he  grow  to  be  king,  his  defence  will 
be  like  Ajax's  shield,  which  rather  weighed  down 
than  defended  those  that  bore  it.  Against  con 
tempt,  if  there  be  any,  which  I  will  never  believe, 
let  your  excellent  virtues  of  piety,  justice,  and 
liberality,  daily,  if  it  be  possible,  more  and  more 
shine.  Let  such  particular  actions  be  found  out, 
which  be  easy  as  I  think  to  be  done,  by  which 
you  may  gratify  all  the  hearts  of  the  people  ;  let 
those  in  whom  you  find  trust,  and  to  whom  you 
have  committed  trust,  in  your  mighty  affairs,  be 
held  up  in  the  eyes  of  your  subjects  ;  lastly, 
doing  as  you  do,  you  shall  be,  as  you  be,  the 
example  of  princes,  the  ornament  of  this  age,  the 
comfort  of  the  afflicted,  the  delight  of  your  peo 
ple,  the  most  excellent  fruit  of  your  progenitors, 
and  the  perfect  mirror  of  your  posterity."  ' 

Philip  Sidney  had  not  lived  three  years  at 
Court  without  learning  that  it  was  no  light 
matter  to  brave  the  anger  of  his  "most  sweet 
and  gracious  sovereign."  The  vindictiveness 
which  was  her  inheritance,  generally  mastered 
her  womanly  compassion.  Brave  and  beautiful 
heads  in  her  reign  were  laid  low  upon  the  scaf- 

*  Cabala. 
10 


146         THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

fold ;  high-born  hearts  pined  beneath  the  frown 
ing  battlements  of  the  Tower;  and  even  in  the 
blaze  of  crackling  fagots,  rebels  sometimes  ex 
piated  their  rebellion.  Torture  often  blanched 
the  lips  of  the  suspected  ;  disgrace  and  imprison 
ment  were  frequent  penalties  of  a  hasty  retort,  or 
freely  expressed  opinion.  Severe  retribution  fol 
lowed  the  writer,  and  the  printer,  of  a  little  book 
published  simultaneously  with  Sidney's  letter. 
It  was  entitled,  "  The  discovery  of  a  gaping 
gulf,  wherein  England  is  like  to  be  swallowed 
by  another  French  marriage,  if  the  Lord  forbid 
not  the  banns  by  letting  her  see  the  sin  and 
punishment  thereof,"  and  these  unfortunate  men 
were  condemned  to  lose  their  right  hands.  Page, 
the  publisher,  exclaimed,  as  he  looked  upon  his 
amputated  member,  "  There  lies  the  hand  of  a 
true  Englishman ! "  and  poor  Stubbs,  the  author, 
after  the  axe  had  fallen  upon  him,  waved  his 
left  hand  and  bravely  cried,  "  God  save  the 
Queen  !  "  Probably  not  one  of  Elizabeth's  min 
isters  would  have  ventured  upon  the  frank  and 
manly  remonstrance  which  was  offered  by  this 
fearless  young  champion.  That  none  of  them 
did  so,  at  least,  is  certain.  Collectively  strong, 
they  were,  in  this  matter,  individually  cautious 
and  irresolute.  But  Philip  Sidney  never  flinched 
from  duty,  and,  not  even  by  silence,  was  traitor 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  147 

to  the  truth.  "  The  truly  valiant,"  he  once  said, 
"dare  every  thing  but  to  do  others  an  injury." 
The  Queen,  irritated  with  her  counsellors  arid 
her  people,  felt,  as  all  others  did,  the  serene  as 
cendency  of  his  pure,  exalted  mind.  The  letter 
was  graciously  received,  the  matrimonial  negoti 
ations  brought  to  a  present  pause,  and  when  they 
were  resumed,  it  was  with  so  much  vacillation 
as  to  justify  the  inference  that  she  was  playing  a 
political  game.  The  Duke  made  several  efforts 
to  regain  his  lost  ground  ;  but  although,  in  the 
fascination  of  his  presence,  the  royal  maiden 
faltered  as  any  rustic  maiden  of  her  realm  might 
have  done  beneath  the  gaze  of  Corydon  or 
Damon,  and  although,  as  the  chroniclers  tell  us, 
she  wore  a  gold  ornament  in  which  his  "  phis- 
nomye"  was  painted,  and  gave  him  in  public  a 
ring  from  her  own  finger,  besides  many  unmis 
takable  evidences  of  affection,  yet  we  may  well 
believe  that  this  pungent  appeal  haunted  her 
memory,  and  prompted  her  final  resolve. 

Sidney  maintained  a  constant  correspondence 
with  his  venerable  friend  Languet,  keeping  him 
apprized  of  all  his  movements,  and  gratefully  re 
ceiving  his  paternal  counsels.  After  this  letter  to 
the  Queen  became  publicly  known,  Languet  ex 
pressed  much  apprehension  lest  the  French  should 
seek  personal  revenge  upon  the  writer,  and  he 


148  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

warns  him  to  be  upon  his  guard,  if  the  Duke  of 
Anjou  should  visit  England  with  a  large  retinue. 
But  Sir  Fulke  Greville  says :  "  He  kept  access  to 
her  Majesty  as  before,  and  a  liberal  conversation 
among  the  French,  reverenced  amongst  the  wor 
thiest  of  them  for  himself,  and  born  in  too  strong 
a  fortification  of  nature  for  the  less  worthy 
to  treat  either  with  question,  familiarity,  or 
scorn." 

In  truth,  the  only  enemy  that  Sidney  seems  to 
have  had  was  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  a  weak,  wicked 
man,  and  the  veriest  coxcomb  in  the  kingdom. 
He  had  no  distinction  but  that  of  having  first 
introduced  into  England  perfumed  and  embroi 
dered  gloves  from  Spain.  He  presented  the 
Queen  with  a  pair,  decorated  with  tufts  of  rose- 
colored  silk,  which  she  always  wore  when  she  sat 
for  her  portraits.  After  this  time,  he  further  dis 
tinguished  himself  by  ruining  his  fortune,  defac 
ing  his  beautiful  castles,  and  pre-determinately 
breaking  the  heart  of  his  wife,*  in  revenge  upon 
her  father,  Lord  Burleigh,  because  he  refused  to 
interfere  in  behalf  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  of 

*  While  Sidney  was  a  student  at  Oxford,  a  treaty  of  mar 
riage  was  proposed  between  this  lady  and  himself.  Lord  Bur 
leigh  and  Sir  Henry  held  some  correspondence  on  the 
subject,  and  it  does  not  seem  to  be  known  why  the  negotia 
tions  were  not  concluded. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  149 

whom  the  Earl  was  a  special  friend.  He  was,  at 
this  time,  the  head  of  the  French  faction ;  and, 
doubtless,  provoked  at  the  part  which  Sidney  had 
taken  in  the  proposed  alliance.  So,  one  day,  when 
the  latter  was  playing  his  favorite  game  of  tennis, 
the  Earl  entered  the  tennis  court,  and  insolently 
ordered  him  to  leave  it.  This  Sidney  of  course 
refused  to  do ;  whereupon  the  Earl,  with  added 
wrath,  repeated  the  command,  calling  him,  among 
other  abusive  epithets,  a  puppy.  A  crowd  of 
noblemen  and  courtiers  were  by  this  time  gath 
ered  ;  the  French  legation  with  the  rest.  Per 
haps  Philip  Sidney  should  have  scorned  "  to  stain 
the  temper  of  his  knightly  sword  "  with  foeman  so 
unworthy,  but  he  answered  the  insult  by  a  haughty 
challenge.  Oxford  sullenly  refused  either  an 
acceptance  or  an  apology.  Sidney  repeated  his 
defiance,  and  the  quarrel  waxed  fierce.  The 
lords  of  the  privy  council  vainly  attempted  to 
mediate,  and  at  last  the  Queen  interposed. 
Sending  for  Sidney,  she  told  him  that  "there 
was  a  great  difference  in  degree  between  earls  and 
private  gentlemen,  and  that  princes  were  born 
to  support  the  nobility,  and  to  insist  on  their 
being  treated  with  proper  respect."  His  was  not 
the  spirit  to  quail  at  the  undeserved  rebuke  of 
even  sceptred  power.  With  becoming  respect, 
but  fearless  independence,  he  adroitly  refuted  the 


150  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

argument.  "  That  place,"  he  said,  "  was  never 
intended  for  privilege  to  wrong ;  witness  herself, 
who,  soever  sovereign  she  were  by  throne,  birth, 
education  and  nature,  yet  was  she  content  to  cast 
her  own  affections  into  the  same  mould  her  sub 
jects  did,  and  govern  all  her  rights  by  the  laws. 
And  although  the  Earl  was  a  great  lord  by  birth, 
alliance,  and  grace,  yet  he  was  no  lord  over  him ; 
and  therefore  the  difference  between  free  men 
could  not  challenge  any  other  homage  than  pre 
cedency."  He  then  reminds  her  that  her  father 
"  gave  the  gentry  free  and  safe  appeal  against  the 
opinions  of  the  grandees,  and  found  it  wisdom  by 
the  stronger  combination  of  numbers,  to  keep 
down  the  greater  power."  * 

This  was  bold  trenching  upon  royal  ground. 
We  do  not  hear  of  another  youth,  gentleman  or 
peer,  who  could  with  impunity  have  led  Majesty 
to  the  well  and  shown  her  Truth  at  the  bottom. 
Bat  it  was  all  taken  in  good  part,  and  perhaps 
Elizabeth  was  even  pleased  with  the  intrepid 
spirit  of  her  knight. 

This  affair  was,  doubtless,  annoying  to  his  sen 
sitive  mind;  and,  besides,  he  was  tired  of  the 
monotony  of  court  life.  He  wrote  a  year  previ 
ously  to  Languet,  that  he  earnestly  desired  pri- 

*  Fulke  Greville's  Life  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  -    151 

vacy  and  leisure.  Soon  after  this,  he  asked  leave 
from  the  Queen  to  pass  some  time  at  Wilton,  the 
residence  of  his  sister,  the  Countess  of  Pembroke. 
During  this  visit,  he  wrote  his  first  work ;  a  famous 
romance,  called  the  Arcadia.  A  richly  carved 
oak  chair,  which  he  usually  occupied  in  the  library 
at  Wilton,  is  even  now  preserved  as  a  precious 
relic ;  and  visitors  are  still  admitted  to  another 
room  there,  the  panels  of  which  represent  the 
shepherds  and  the  knights,  the  rustic  dances  and 
the  martial  deeds,  of  Sidney's  story. 


152  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HE  Arcadia  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  is  a  mix 
ture  of  the  old  Gothic  romance  with  the 
Italian  pastoral.  As  it  was  one  of  the 
standard  works  of  that  century,  and  is  still  vene 
rated  as  a  literary  curiosity,  let  us  take  down 
from  its  shelf  a  rare  old  copy  printed  in  1638, 
and  cull  therefrom  a  few  specimen  passages, 
weaving  them  together  with  a  brief  outline  of 
the  story. 

The  work  opens  with  a  dialogue  between  two 
shepherds,  idly  stretched  upon  a  sandy  beach  of 
Laconia,  on  the  charms  of  a  certain  damsel,  of 
whom  they  declare  that  "  as  the  greatest  thing  in 
the  world  is  her  beauty,  so  that  is  the  least 
thing  that  may  be  praised  in  her."  They  are 
diverted  from  the  theme  by  the  sudden  appear 
ance  of  a  man,  floating  on  the  fragment  of  a 
shattered  vessel.  As  soon  as  their  care  has  re 
stored  his  senses,  he  begs  them  to  seek  for 
his  friend  Pyrocles,  who  is  also  a  victim  of  the 
wreck.  Engaging  the  services  of  some  fishermen, 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  153 

they  proceed  in  the  search,  accompanied  by  the 
stranger,  Musidorus,  who  promises  to  reward 
them  from  a  casket  of  jewels,which  he  has  managed 
to  save.  They  soon  espy,  seated  upon  the  broken 
mast,  a  youth  of  wondrous  beauty,  scantily  ap 
parelled  in  a  garment  wrought  with  blue  silk  and 
gold,  and  waving  a  sword  with  defiant  air  above 
his  head.  The  simple  fishermen  imagine  him 
some  god  of  the  sea,  but  Musidorus,  with  joyful 
recognition  of  his  friend,  assures  them  that  "  he  is 
but  a  man,  although  of  divine  excellencies."  But 

'  O 

now  heaves  in  sight  a  pirate  ship,  well  known 
to  them  as  a  cruiser  for  slaves  for  the  galleys,  and 
the  terrified  mariners  ply  their  boat  hastily  home 
ward,  leaving  poor  Pyrocles, — embroidered  toga, 
sword,  and  all, — in  hopeless  solitude.  Musidorus 
is  in  despair,  knowing  what  is  now  the  inevitable 
fate  of  his  comrade.  The  shepherds,  compassion 
ating  his  grief,  advise  him  to  seek  the  protection 
of  a  fine  old  Arcadian  gentleman,  named  Kalan- 
der;  "a  man  who  for  his  hospitality  is  so  much 
haunted  that  no  news  stirs  but  comes  to  his 
ears  ;  for  his  upright  dealing  so  beloved  of  his 
neighbors,  that  he  hath  many  ever  ready  to  do 
him  their  uttermost  service ;  to  him  we  will  bring 
you,  and  there  you  may  recover  your  health,  with 
out  which  you  will  not  be  able  to  make  any  dili 
gent  search  for  your  friend."  With  comforting 


154         THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

care,  they  conduct  him  to  Arcadia,  arriving  there 
"in  the  time  that  the  morning  did  strew  roses 
and  violets  in  the  heavenly  floor,  against  the 
coming  of  the  sun."  Here  follows  one  of  the 
poetical  descriptions  with  which  the  book  abounds: 
"  There  were  hills  which  garnished  their  proud 
heights  with  stately  trees  ;  humble  valleys  whose 
base  estate  seemed  comforted  with  the  refreshing 
of  silver  rivers ;  meadows  enamelled  with  all  sorts 
of  eye-pleasing  flowers;  thickets  which  being 
lined  with  most  pleasant  shade,  were  witnessed  so, 
too,  by  the  cheerful  disposition  of  many  well- 
tuned  birds ;  each  pasture  stored  with  sheep, 
feeding  with  sober  security,  while  the  pretty  lambs 
with  bleating  oratory  craved  the  dam's  comfort ; 
here  a  shepherd's  boy,  piping  as  though  he  should 
never  be  old;  there  a  young  shepherdess, knitting, 
and  withal  singing,  and  it  seemed  that  her  voice 
comforted  her  hands  to  work,  and  her  hands  kept 
time  to  her  voice  music." — "A  happy  people,"  he 
says,  u  were  the  Arcadians ;  wanting  little,  because 
they  desired  not  much."  The  house  of  Kalander 
he  pleasantly  describes  as  "built  of  fair  arid 
shewy  stone,  not  affecting  so  much  any  extrava 
gant  kind  of  fineness,  as  an  honorable  represent 
ing  of  a  firm  stateliness.  The  lights,  doors,  and 
stairs,  rather  directed  to  the  use  of  the  guest  than 
to  the  eye  of  the  artificer." — "All  more  lasting 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  155 

than  beautiful,  but  that  the  consideration  of  the 
exceeding  lastingness  made  the  eye  believe  it 
was  exceeding  beautiful.  The  servants,  not  so 
many  in  number  as  cleanly  in  apparel  and  service 
able  in  behavior,  testifying  even  in  their  counte 
nances  that  their  master  took  as  well  care  to  be 
served  as  of  them  that  did  serve."*  The  worthy 
host  receives  Musidorus  with  great  hospitality, 
nurses  him  through  a  long  illness,  and  sends  out 
a  galley  in  search  of  Pyrocles ;  and  finding  in  his 
guest  "  a  mind  of  most  excellent  composition,  a 
piercing  wit  quite  devoid  of  ostentation,  high- 
erected  thoughts  seated  in  a  heart  of  courtesy,  ah 
eloquence  as  sweet  in  the  uttering  as  slow  to 
come  to  the  uttering,  a  behavior  so  noble  as  gave 
a  majesty  to  adversity,  and  all  in  a  man  wThose 
age  could  not  be  above  one  and  twenty  years,  the 
good  old  man  was  even  enamored  with  a  fatherly 
love  toward  him." 

Among  various  objects  of  taste  in  this  Arca 
dian  home,  such  as  gardens,  statues,  and  pictures, 
Musidorus  is  one  day  attracted  by  the  portraits 
of  a  "  comely  old  man,  a  lady  of  middle  age  but 
of  excellent  beauty,"  and  a  maiden  of  surpassing 
loveliness.  Kalander  explains  that  they  represent 

*  It  is  thought  that  this  description  was  intended  as  a 
picture  of  Penshurst  Castle,  Sir  Philip's  early  home. 


156  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

the  royal  family  of  Arcadia ;  and  proceeds  to  say 
that  Basilius  the  King,  having  received  an  un 
pleasant  prophecy  from  the  Delphian  oracle,  had 
determined  to  avert  its  fulfilment  by  breaking  up 
his  court,  and  burying  himself,  and  his  wife  and 
daughters,  in  the  solitude  of  a  forest  hard  by.  He 
describes  Basilius  as  "  not  exceeding  in  the  vir 
tues  which  get  admiration,  as  depth  of  wisdom, 
height  of  courage,  and  largeness  of  magnificence, 
but  notable  in  those  which  stir  affection,  as  truth 
of  word,  meekness,  courtesy,  mercifulness,  and 
liberality."  Gynecia,  his  wife,  many  years 
younger  than  himself,  is  "  a  woman  of  great  wit, 
and  more  princely  virtues  than  her  husband ;  of 
so  working  a  mind  and  so  vehement  spirits,  as  a 
man  may  say,  it  was  happy  she  took  a  good 
course,  for  otherwise  it  would  have  been  terrible." 
Of  the  daughters  he  says,  "  there  is  more  sweet 
ness  in  Philoclea,  more  majesty  in  Pamela ; 
methought  love  played  in  Philoclea's  eye,  and 
threatened  in  Pamela's ;  Philoclea's  beauty  only 
persuaded,  but  so  as  hearts  must  yield, — Pamela's 
used  violence,  as  no  hearts  could  resist."  Philo 
clea  is  humble  and  diffident,  Pamela  full  of  wise 
and  lofty  thought. 

Some  days  after,  Musidorus  discovers  that 
Kalander  has  heard  some  painful  news  which  he 
conceals  from  his  guest,  because  the  laws  of  hos- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  157 

pitality,  "  long  and  holily  observed  by  him,  give 
such  a  sway  to  his  proceedings  that  he  will  in  no 
way  suffer  the  stranger  lodged  under  his  roof  to 
receive  any  infection  of  his  anguish."  Musido- 
rus  hears  from  the  steward  of  the  household  that 
Clitophon,  Kalander's  only  son,  having  gone  off 
on  a  chivalrous  service  for  a  friend,  had  become 
accidentally  engaged  in  a  battle  between  the 
Helots  and  their  masters,  and  was  a  prisoner  in 
the  hands  of  the  former.  Musidorus  resolves  to 
attempt  the  rescue  of  Clitophon ;  and  Kalander, 
with  joyful  assent,  assembling  two  hundred  Ar 
cadian  gentlemen,  they  enter  the  Helot  camp  by 
stratagem.  After  a  sharp  conflict,  in  which  the 
Arcadians  lose  ground,  Musidorus  proposes  to 
decide  the  day  by  single  combat  with  the  Helot 
captain.  "  And  so  they  began  a  fight  which  was 
so  much  inferior  to  the  battle  in  noise  and  num 
ber  as  it  was  surpassing  it  in  bravery,  and,  as  it 
were,  delightful  terribleness.  Their  courage  was 
guided  with  skill,  and  their  skill  was  armed  with 
courage  ;  neither  did  their  hardness  darken  their 
wit,  nor  their  wit  cool  their  hardness  ;  both  val 
iant,  as  men  despising  death  ;  both  confident,  as 
unwonted  to  be  overcome, — their  feet  steady, 
their  hands  diligent,  their  eyes  watchful,  and 
their  hearts  resolute." 

Musidorus  at  last  receives  a  blow  which  knocks 


158  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

off  his  helmet,  and,  reeling  backward,  is  astonished 
to  see  his  foe  kneeling  at  his  feet,  and  offering 
him  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  in  token  of  submission. 
It  is  his  lost  friend  Pyrocles,  who  has  just  dis 
covered  with  whom  he  is  contending.  Matters 
are  soon  amicably  adjusted  between  the  belli 
gerent  parties ;  Clitophon  is  released,  and  the 
two  friends  return  home  with  Kalander. 

After  a  few  days  of  social  enjoyment,  Musi- 
dorus  perceives  that  Pyrocles  is  silent  and  ab 
stracted,  seeking  solitude  in  the  woods  and 
gardens  "  as  if  his  only  comfort  was  to  be  with 
out  a  comforter."  Attributing  this  sadness  to 
long  absence  from  their  home  in  Thessaly,  where 
they  both  held  the  rank  of  princes,  he  proposes 
that  they  return  thither.  Receiving  no  encour 
agement,  he  proceeds  to  reason  with  him  upon 
the  change  in  his  conduct. 

"  A  mind  well  trained  and  long  exercised  in 
virtue,  doth  not  easily  change  any  course  it  once 
undertakes,  but  upon  well-grounded  and  well- 
weighed  causes,  bat  whereas  you  were  wont  to 
give  yourself  vehemently  to  the  knowledge  of 
those  things  which  might  better  your  mind,  to 
seek  the  familiarity  of  excellent  men  in  soldiery 
and  learning,  and  -to  put  all  these  things  in  prac 
tice,  you  now  leave  them  all  undone  ;  you  let 
your  mind  fall  asleep;  beside  your  countenance 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  159 

troubled,  which  surely  comes  not  of  virtue ;  for 
virtue,  like  the  clear  heaven,  is  without  clouds  ; 
and  lastly,  you  subject  yourself  to  solitariness, 
the  sly  enemy  that  doth  most  separate  a  man 
from  well-doing." 

Pyrocles,  after  acknowledging  the  kindness  of 
the  expostulation,  defends  himself  by  saying, 
"  These  knowledges,  as  they  are  of  good  use, 
yet  are  they  not  all  the  mind  may  stretch  itself 
unto ;  who  knows  whether  I  feed  not  my  mind 
with  higher  thoughts  ?  Truly,  though  I  know 
not  all  the  particularities,  yet  I  see  the  bounds 
of  all  these  knowledges ;  but  the  workings  of  the 
mind  I  find  much  more  infinite.  And  in  such 
contemplation  I  enjoy  my  solitariness ;  and  my 
solitariness,  perchance,  is  the  nurse  of  these  con 
templations.  Eagles  we  see  fly  alone,  and  they 
are  but  sheep  which  always  herd  together. — And 
doth  not  the  pleasantness  of  this  place  carry  in 
it  sufficient  reward  for  any  time  lost  in  it  ?  Do 
you  not  see  how  all  things  conspire  to  make  this 
country  a  heavenly  dwelling  ?  Do  you  not  see 
the  grasses,  how  in  color  they  excel  the  emer 
alds,  each  one  striving  to  pass  his  fellow,  and  yet 
they  are  all  kept  of  equal  height  ?  Do  not  these 
stately  trees  seem  to  maintain  their  flourishing 
old  age,  with  the  happiness  of  their  seat,  being 
clothed  with  a  continual  spring,  because  no  beauty 


160  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

here  should  ever  fade  ?  Doth  not  the  air  breathe 
health,  which  the  birds,  delightful  both  to  eye  and 
ear,  do  daily  solemnize  with  the  sweet  consent 
of  their  voices  ?  And  these  fresh  and  delightful 
brooks,  how  slowly  they  glide  away,  as  loth  to 
leave  the  company  of  so  many  united  things  in 
perfection ;  and  with  how  sweet  a  murmur  they 
lament  the  forced  departure.  Certainly  it  must 
be  that  some  goddess  inhabiteth  this  region  who 
is  the  soul  of  this  soil." 

Musidorus  is  not  quite  satisfied  with  this  adroit 
subterfuge;  but  the  conversation  is  interrupted 
by  Kalander,  who  comes  to  invite  their  presence 
at  a  stag  hunt.  After  the  hunt,  Pyrocles  is  miss 
ing,  and  a  letter  to  Musidorus  informs  him  that 
his  friend  is  the  hopeless  victim  of  the  tender 
passion.  He  is  much  disturbed  by  the  flight  of 
Pyrocles,  and  again  starts  in  search  of  him,  to 
the  grief  of  Kalander,  who,  however,  "  knowing 
it  to  be  more  cumber  than  courtesy  to  strive, 
abstains  from  urging  him." 

After  two  months  of  unrewarded  knight-errant 
ry,  in  the  course  of  which  he  meets  with  various 
remarkable  adventures,  he  returns  despondingly 
to  Arcadia.  One  day,  while  reposing  under  the 
shade  of  a  forest- tree,  he  is  surprised  by  the  sight 
of  a  beautiful  Amazon,  clad  in  a  doublet  of  blue 
satin,  decked  with  gold  plates  in  imitation  of 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  161 

mail,  crimson  velvet  buskins,  on  her  head  a  cor 
onet  of  gold  and  feathers  made  to  resemble  a 
helmet,  and  at  her  side  a  sword.  Entering  an 
arbor  "  of  trees  with  branches  lovingly  inter 
laced,"  and  singing  a  doleful  love-ditty,  her  fea 
tures  reveal  to  the  astonished  Musidorus  his  long- 
sought  Pyrocles.  Grieved  at  this  unmanly  dis 
guise,  he  addresses  him  in  a  strain  of  affectionate 
reproof;  reminds  him  of  his  noble  birth,  and  that 
he  is  now  forfeiting  the  fame  with  which  his  pre 
vious  life  had  been  rewarded  ;  "  as  if  you  should 
drown  your  ship  in  the  desired  haven,  or  as  if  an 
ill  player  should  mar  the  last  act  of  his  tragedy." 
"  Remember,  that  if  we  will  be  men,  the  reasona 
ble  part  of  our  soul  is  to  have  absolute  command 
ment." — "  Nay,  we  are  to  resolve  that  if  reason 
direct  it,  we  must  do  it ;  and  if  we  must  do  it, 
we  will  do  it."  With  impatient  vehemence,  he 
denounces,  in  a  tirade  worthy  of  the  great  Cynic 
himself,  the  passion  that  has  been  "  the  author 
of  all  these  troubles " — "  it  is  nothing  but  a  cer 
tain  base  weakness,  which  some  fools  call  a  gen 
tle  heart ;  his  companions  are  unquiet  longings, 
fond  comforts,  faint  discomforts,  hopes,  jealousies, 
ungrounded  rages,  causeless  yieldings ;  so  is  the 
highest  end  it  aspires  unto,  a  little  pleasure,  with 
much  pain  before,  and  great  repentance  after. 
It  truly  subverts  the  course  of  nature,  making 
11 


162  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

reason  give  place  to  sense,  and  man  to  woman." 
"  True  love,"  he  adds,  "hath  that  excellent  nature 
in  it,  that  it  doth  transform  the  very  essence  of 
the  lover  into  the  thing  loved;  uniting,  and  as  it 
were,  incorporating  it  with  a  secret  and  inward 
working.  The  love  of  heaven  makes  one  heav 
enly ;  the  love  of  virtue,  virtuous  ;  but  this  effem 
inate  love  of  a  woman  doth  so  womanize  a  man 
that  if  he  yield  to  it,  it  will  not  only  make  an 
Amazon,  but  a  launder,  a  distaff,  a  spinner,  or 
whatsoever  vile  occupation  his  idle  head  can 
imagine,  and  his  weak  hands  perform.  There 
fore  if  either  you  remember  what  you  are,  what 
you  have  been,  or  what  you  must  be ;  if  you 
consider  by  what  kind  of  creature  you  are  moved, 
you  shall  find  the  cause  so  small,  the  effect  so 
dangerous,  and  both  so  unworthy  of  you,  that  I 
doubt  not  I  shall  quickly  have  occasion  rather 
to  praise  you  for  having  conquered  it,  than  to 
give  you  farther  counsel  how  to  do  it."  Pyrocles, 
though  displeased  with  this  expostulation,  par 
dons  it  "  from  the  exceeding  good-will  he  bears 
to  Musidorus."  He  takes  up  the  cudgels  in  be 
half  of  the  despised  sex,  and  reminds  him  that  if 
men  have  such  excellence,  it  is  reasonable  to 
attribute  it,  in  part  at  least,  to  their  mothers, 
"  since  a  kite  never  brought  forth  a  good  flying 
hawk."  The  invective  against  love,  he  says, 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  163 

should  be  levelled  against  him,  rather  than 
against  love  itself;  "above  all,  not  against  that 
divine  creature  who  hath  joined  me  and  love 
together,"  and  avows,  that  notwithstanding  his 
womanly  attire,  he  will  prove  himself  a  man  in 
that  enterprise.  After  much  sharp  shooting  on 
both  sides,  Musidorus  indignantly  exclaims,  "  I 
now  beseech  you,  even  for  the  love  betwixt  us, 
(if  this  other  love  hath  left  any  in  you  towards 
me,)  for  the  remembrance  of  your  father,  and  for 
your  own  sake,  to  purge  yourself  of  this  vile 
infection ;  otherwise  give  me  leave  to  leave  off 
this  name  of  friendship,  as  an  idle  title  of  a 
thing  which  cannot  be  where  virtue  is  not  estab 
lished."  In  the  accents  of  wounded  affection 
Pyrocles  replies,  "Alas,  how  cruelly  you  deal  with 
me ;  if  you  seek  the  victory,  take  it ;  and  if  ye 
list,  the  triumph  ;  have  you  all  the  reason  of  the 
world,  and  with  me  remain  all  the  imperfections ; 
yet  such  as  I  can  no  more  lay  from  me  than  the 
Crow  can  be  persuaded  by  the  Swan  to  cast  off 
his  black  feathers.  But  truly  you  deal  with  me 
like  a  physician,  that  seeing  his  patient  in  a  pes 
tilent  fever,  should  chide  him,  instead  of  minis 
tering  help,  and  bid  him  be  sick  no  more ;  or 
rather  like  such  a  friend,  that  visiting  his  friend 
condemned  to  perpetual  prison  and  laden  with 
grievous  fetters,  should  will  him  to  shake  off  his 


164  THE  LIFE   AND  TIMES  OF 

fetters  or  he  would  leave  him.  I  am  sick,  and 
sick  to  the  death ;  I  am  prisoner,  neither  is  there 
any  redress  but  by  her  to  whom  I  am  a  slave. 
Now,  if  you  list,  leave  him  that  loves  you  in  the 
highest  degree.  But  remember  ever  to  carry  this 
with  you,  that  you  abandon  your  friend  in  his 
greatest  extremity."  "  And  herewith  the  deep 
wound  of  his  love  being  rubbed  afresh  with 
this  new  unkindness,  began  as  it  were  to  bleed 
again,  in  such  a  sort  as  he  was  unable  to  bear 
it  any  longer,  but  gushing  out  abundance  of 
tears,  and  crossing  his  arms  over  his  woful  heart, 
he  sunk  down  to  the  ground ;  which  sudden 
trance  went  so  to  the  heart  of  Musidorus,  that,  fall 
ing  down  by  him  and  kissing  the  weeping  eyes 
of  his  friend,  he  besought  him  not  to  make  ac 
count  of  his  speech  ;  which,  if  it  had  been  over 
vehement,  yet  was  it  to  be  borne  withal,  because 
it  came  out  of  a  love  much  more  vehement ;  but 
now,  finding  in  him  the  force  of  it,  he  would  no 
farther  contrary  it,  but  employ  all  his  service  to 
medicine  it.  But  even  this  kindness  made  Pyro- 
cles  the  more  to  melt  in  the  former  unkindness, 
which  his  manlike  tears  well  showed,  with  a  silent 
look  upon  Musidorus,  as  who  should  say,  and  is 
it  possible  that  Musidorus  should  threaten  to 
leave  me?  And  this  struck  Musidorus's  mind 
and  senses  so  dumb  too,  that,  for  grief,  not  being 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  165 

able  to  say  any  thing,  they  rested  with  their  eyes 
placed  one  upon  another  in  such  sort  as  well 
might  point  out  the  true  passion  of  unkindness 
to  be  never  aright  but  betwixt  them  that  dearly 
love."  * 

A  complete  reconciliation  ensues,  and  Musi- 
dorus  begs  to  hear  the  story  of  Pyrocles's  mis 
fortunes,  because  "  between  friends  all  must  be 
told,  nothing  being  superfluous  or  tedious."  "As 
sure  yourself,"  he  says,  "  there  is  nothing  so  great 
which  I  will  fear  to  do  for  you,  and  nothing  so 

*  D'Israeli  has  remarked,  in  allusion  probably  to  this  dia 
logue,  "  There  is  something  in  the  language  and  the  conduct 
of  Musidorus  and  Pyrocles,  which  may  startle  the  reader,  and 
may  be  condemned  as  very  unnatural  and  most  affected. 
Their  friendship  resembles  the  love  which  is  felt  for  the  beau 
tiful  sex,  if  we  were  to  decide  by  their  impassioned  conduct, 
and  the  tenderness  of  their  language.  Coleridge  observed 
that  the  language  of  these  two  friends  in  the  Arcadia  is  such 
as  we  would  not  now -use,  except  to  women;  and  he  has 
thrown  out  some  very  remarkable  observations.  ...  It 
is  unquestionably  a  remains  of  the  ancient  chivalry,  when 
men,  embarking  in  the  same  perilous  enterprise  together, 
vowed  their  mutual  aid  and  their  personal  devotion.  The 
dangers  of  one  knight  were  to  be  participated,  and  his  honor 
to  be  maintained,  by  his  brother-in-arms.  Such  exalted 
friendships,  and  such  interminable  affections,  often  broke  out 
both  in  deeds  and  words  which,  to  the  tempered  intercourse 
of  our  day,  offend  by  their  intensity." — Amenities  of  Litera 
ture,  vol.  2. 


166  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF 

small  which  I  will  disdain  to  do."  Pyrocles 
proceeds  to  explain  that  when  he  first  saw  in 
Kalander's  house  the  portrait  of  Philoclea,  he 
"quickly  received  a  cruel  impression  of  that 
wonderful  passion  which  to  be  defined  is  impos 
sible,  because  no  words  reach  to  the  strange 
nature  of  it;  they  only  know  it  who  inwardly 
feel  it ;  it  is  called  Love."  All  that  he  saw  and 
heard  seemed  but  to  feed  the  flame,  although  he 
calls  to  witness  "  the  eternal  spring  of  virtue," 
that  he  summoned  all  reason  and  philosophy  to 
his  aid.  "  Nothing  in  truth  could  hold  any  plea 
with  it,  but  the  reverent  friendship  I  bear  unto 
you,  feeling  that  there  is  nothing  more  terrible  to 
a  guilty  heart  than  the  eye  of  a  respected  friend." 
Hearing  from  Kalander  that  Basilius  was  obsti 
nately  bent  on  keeping  his  daughters  from  matri 
mony,  in  consequence  of  the  warning  of  the 
oracle,  he  had  determined  to  obtain  admission  to 
the  presence  of  his  fair  one,  in  the  disguise  of  an 
Amazon.  Basilius,  finding  him  alone  in  the 
forest  near  the  royal  dwelling,  and  smitten  with 
the  beauty  of  the  supposed  lady,  marvelled  at 
her  solitude.  "  They  are  never  alone,"  he  replied, 
"  that  are  accompanied  by  noble  thoughts."  Pyr 
ocles  passed  himself  off  as  the  niece  of  the 
Amazonian  Queen,  shipwrecked  on  that  coast, 
and  had  ingratiated  himself  with  the  royal  fam- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  167 

ily  even  more  successfully  than  he  desired.  He 
enjoyed  the  society  of  Philoclea,  who,  not  sus 
pecting  his  sex,  was  yet  conscious  of  strange 
heart  flutterings  in  his  presence ;  but  the  old  king 
had  conceived  a  violent  passion  for  the  beautiful 
Amazon,  which  he  displayed  by  pertinacious 
attention  ;  and,  to  crown  the  ludicrous  entangle 
ment  of  the  knight,  Gynecia,  the  queen,  had  seen 
through  his  disguise,  and  become  deeply  enam 
ored  of  him.  Between  the  plots  and  counterplots 
which  this  precious  pair  contrived  for  the  purpose 
of  deceiving  each  other  and  securing  their  own 
aim,  Pyrocles  had  had  a  very  thorny  time  to  pre 
serve  his  own  dignity,  and  secure  the  love  of 
Philoclea. 

At  this  crisis,  Musidorus  is  added  to  the  dram 
atis  person^  and  being  introduced  to  them  as  an 
Arcadian  shepherd,  he  is  unsuspectingly  received 
into  the  service  of  Basilius.  Pyrocles  is  soon 
avenged  for  the  past  rebukes  of  the  woman- 
hating  Musidorus,  by  finding  that  he,  too,  soon 
takes  to  solitary  rambles  and  melancholy  plaints, 
and  hears  with  malicious  pleasure  that  he  is 
ensnared  by  the  fair  Pamela.  u  I  find  indeed,' 
says  the  penitent  type  of  myriad  successors 
"  that  all  is  but  lip  wisdom  which  wants  experi 
ence.  Well  do  I  see  that  Love,  to  a  yielding 
heart,  is  a  king ;  but  to  a  resisting  one,  a  tyrant," 


168  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

Meanwhile  the  sisters  are  not  insensible  to  the 
attractions  of  the  young  princes,  who  in  due  time 
reveal  to  them  their  incognito.  The  latter  tell  the 
story  of  their  past  lives,  and  describe,  in  one  of  the 
fine  passages  of  that  nature  with  which  the  book 
abounds,  the  shipwreck  that  threw  them  on  the 
coast  of  Greece.  "  There  arose  even  with  the 
sun  a  veil  of  black  clouds  before  his  face,  which 
shortly,  like  ink  poured  into  water,  had  blacked 
all  over  the  face  of  heaven  ;  preparing,  as  it  were, 
a  mournful  stage  for  a  tragedy  to  be  played  on. 
For  forthwith  the  winds  began  to  speak  louder, 
and,  as  in  a  tumultuous  kingdom,  to  think  them 
selves  fittest  instruments  of  commandment ;  and 
blowing  whole  storms  of  hail  and  rain  upon  them, 
they  were  sooner  in  danger  than  they  could 
almost  bethink  themselves  of  change.  For  then 
the  traitorous  sea  began  to  swell  in  pride  against 
the  afflicted  navy,  under  which,  while  the  heaven 
favored  them,  it  had  lain  so  calmly;  making 
mountains  of  itself,  over  which  the  tossed  and 
tottering  ship  should  climb,  to  be  straight  carried 
down  again  to  a  pit  of  hellish  darkness,  with 
such  cruel  blows  against  the  side  of  the  ship,  that, 
which  way  soever  it  went,  was  still  in  his  malice, 
that  there  was  neither  left  power  to  stay  nor  way 
to  escape.  And  shortly  had  it  so  dissevered  the 
loving  ompany,  which  the  day  before  had  tarried 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  169 

together,  that  most  of  them  never  met  again,  but 
were  swallowed  up  in  his  never-satisfied  mouth. 
There  was  to  be  seen  the  diverse  manner  of 
minds  in  distress  ;  some  sat  upon  the  top  of  the 
poop,  weeping  and  wailing  till  the  sea  swallowed 
them  ;  some  one  more  able  to  abide  death,  than 
fear  of  death,  cut  his  own  throat  to  prevent 
drowning ;  some  prayed ;  and  there  wanted  not 
of  them  which  cursed,  as  if  the  heavens  could 
not  be  more  angry  than  they  were."  An  incident 
which  they  witnessed  in  the  course  of  their  ad 
ventures,  is  supposed  to  have  suggested  to  Shak- 
speare  the  story  of  Gloster,  in  King  Lear.  Over 
taken  by  a  violent  storm,  they  had  taken  refuge 
within  a  hollow  rock,  and  were  auditors  of  a 
conversation  between  a  blind  old  man  and  a 
youth  who  was  leading  him  ;  "  both  poorly  arrayed 
and  extremely  weather-beaten,  yet  in  both  there 
seemed  a  kind  of  nobleness  not  suitable  to  that 
affliction."  The  elder  proved  to  be  the  king  of 
Paphlagonia,  deprived  of  his  kingdom  and  his 
sight  by  a  bastard  son ;  and,  attended  in  his  ban 
ishment  by  a  dutiful,  but  unloved,  legitimate  child, 
he  had  by  coaxing  and  entreaty  made  his  way  to 
the  summit  of  this  high  rock,  with  the  purpose 
of  ending  his  misfortunes  by  a  headlong  leap. 

Philoclea  is  overwhelmed  with  delight  to  find 
that  her    Zelmane  is  no  other   than    the  Prince 


170  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

Pyrocles,  whose  fame  had  often  reached  her — 
"  such  joy  as  wrought  into  Pygmalion's  mind, 
when  he  found  his  beloved  image  was  softer  and 
warmer  in  his  folded  arms,  till  at  length  it  ac 
complished  his  gladness  with  a  perfect  woman's 
shape.  Yet  doubt  would  fain  have  played  his 
part  in  her  mind,  and  called  in  question  how  she 
should  be  assured  that  Zelmane  was  Pyrocles. 
But  love  stood  straight  up  and  deposed  that  a  lie 
could  not  come  from  the  mouth  of  Zelmane. 
With  sweet  timidity  she  confesses  the  story  of 
her  faith,  and  says,  '  Thou  hast  then  the  victory 
— use  it  with  virtue.  Dost  thou  love  me  ?  Keep 
me  then  still  worthy  to  be  loved.'  " 

Numerous  pastoral  sports  and  whimsical  feats 
of  arms  "  give  feathers  to  the  wings  of  time,"  as 
Sidney  says ;  but,  however  entertaining  to  Arca 
dian  lovers  and  those  of  his  own  day,  modern 
taste  has  so  far  outrun  their  quaint  insipidity, 
that  we  refrain  from  quotation. 

After  several  weeks  interval,  during  which  the 
king  and  queen  ingeniously  torture  themselves 
and  every  body  else,  and  the  knights  maintain 
their  constancy  and  honor,  a  checkmate  is  threat 
ened  from  a  new  quarter.  Cecropia,  Queen  of 
Argos,  and  aunt  of  the  princesses,  incensed  that 
the  marriage  overtures  of  her  son  Amphialus 
to  Philoclea  have  been  refused,  and  his  succession 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  171 

thus  lost  to  the  throne  of  Arcadia,  contrives  a 
plan  to  secure  the  possession  of  both.  So  one 
day  while  the  princesses  and  the  pretended  Ama 
zon  are  regaling  themselves  with  grapes  and  plums 
in  the  forest,  they  are  all  seized  by  a  party  of 
armed  men  and  forcibly  carried  to  a  fortified  cas 
tle,  built  upon  a  high  rock  in  the  midst  of  a  lake. 
Here  they  are  closely  confined  in  separate  apart 
ments,  "  wanting  nothing  but  liberty  and  com 
fort,"  and  not  permitted  to  see  or  hear  from  each 
other.  Cecropia's  object  is  to  compel,  by  either 
persuasion  or  force,  one  of  the  sisters  to  marry 
her  son  ;  and  Basilius,  she  argues,  will  soon  die 
from  grief  at  their  loss.  Amphialus,  who  is  "  an 
excellent  son  of  an  evil  mother,  like  a  rose  out  of 
a  briar,"  disapproves  the  stratagem,  but  accepts 
it  as  an  occasion  to  plead  his  cause  with  Philoclea, 
of  whom  he  is  deeply  enamored.  Arraying  him 
self  in  black  velvet  embroidered  with  pearl,  and 
a  broad  collar  of  diamonds,  rubies,  and  opals,  set 
in  white  enamel,  he  betakes  himself  to  her  cham 
ber.  The  gentle  damsel  was  in  very  disconsolate 
mood,  but  "  in  the  book  of  her  beauty  there  was 
nothing  to  be  read  but  sorrow ;  for  kindness  was 
blotted  out  and  anger  was  never  there."  He 
pleads  his  cause  with  much  waste  of  eloquence, 
avowing  that  her  face  is  his  astronomy,  her  good 
ness,  his  philosophy ;  to  which  he  receives  the 


172  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF 

frigid  assurance  that  she  will  find  a  way  to  death 
rather  than  accept  him.  Cecropia,  incensed  at 
her  obstinacy,  and  grieved  by  the  despair  of  her 
son,  tries  her  own  persuasive  power,  masking  her 
malice  under  a  loving  mien.  She  begins  the 
attack  by  an  artful  appeal  to  her  feminine  vanity : 
"  Fie  upon  this  peevish  sadness !  Look  upon  your 
own  body,  and  see  whether  it  deserve  to  pine 
away  with  sorrow!  see  whether  you  will  have 
these  hands  fade  from  their  whiteness  and  soft 
ness,  and  become  dry,  lean,  and  yellow;  and 
make  everybody  wonder  at  the  change,  and  say, 
that  sure  you  had  used  some  art  before,  for  if  the 
beauties  had  been  natural  they  would  never  so 
soon  have  been  blemished.  Take  a  glass,  and 
see  whether  tears  become  your  eyes  ;  although  I 
confess  those  eyes  are  able  to  make  tears  comely." 
"Alas!"  answers  Philoclea,  "  I  know  not  whether 
tears  become  my  eyes,  but  I  am  sure  that  my 
eyes,  thus  beteared,  become  my  fortune."  Find 
ing  this  tack  unsuccessful,  Cecropia  tries  another. 
She  pictures  the  charms  of  married  life,  and  says 
that  she  has  come  to  offer  her  their  "  true  and 
essential  happiness."  "  Have  you  ever  seen  a 
pure  rose-water  kept  in  a  crystal  glass  ?  how  fine 
it  looks,  how  sweet  it  smells,  while  that  beautiful 
glass  imprisons  it  ?  Break  the  prison,  and  let  the 
water  take  its  own  course :  doth  it  not  embrace 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  173 

dust,  and  lose  all  its  former  sweetness  and  fair 
ness  ?  Truly  so  are  we,  if  we  have  not  the  stay 
rather  than  the  restraint  of  crystalline  marriage. 
My  heart  melts  to  think  of  the  sweet  comforts  I 
in  that  time  received,  when  I  had  never  cause  to 
care,  but  the  care  was  doubled ;  when  I  never  re 
joiced,  but  that  I  saw  my  joy  shine  in  another's 
eyes.  What  shall  I  say  of  the  free  delight  which 
the  heart  might  embrace,  without  the  accusing  of 
the  inward  conscience,  or  the  fear  of  outward 
shame  ?  And  is  a  solitary  life  as  good  as  this  ? 
Then  can  one  string  make  as  good  music  as  a 
concert ;  then  can  one  color  set  forth  a  beauty." 

Mother  and  son  are  equally  unsuccessful ;  Phi- 
loclea  pines  for  her  captive  lover  ;  is  unmoved  by 
the  splendid  gifts  daily  sent  to  her  by  Arnphialus, 
and  heedless  of  the  delightful  music  that  is  nightly 
poured  forth  beneath  her  window.  As  the  one 
sister  continues  intractable,  Cecropia  points  her 
batteries  upon  the  other,  hoping  that  Amphialus 
will  turn  his  affections  into  the  successful  channel. 
She  proceeds  to  Pamela's  chamber,  and  hearing 
her  voice,  pauses  to  listen.  The  high-minded 
maiden,  resolutely  fortifying  herself  against  pres 
ent  and  feared  calamity,  paces  the  floor  "  with 
deep  and  patient  thought,"  and  gives  utterance 
to  her  emotion  in  this  beautiful  invocation : — 

"  O  All-seeing  Light,  and  eternal  Life  of  all 


174  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF 

things!  to  whom  nothing  is  either  so  great  that  it 
may  resist,  or  so  small  that  it  is  contemned;  look 
upon  my  misery  with  thine  eye  of  mercy,  and  let 
thine  infinite  power  vouchsafe  to  limit  out  some 
proportion  of  deliverance  unto  me,  as  to  thee  shall 
seem  most  convenient.  Let  not  injury,  O  Lord, 
triumph  over  me,  and  let  my  faults  by  thy  hand 
be  corrected,  and  make  not  mine  unjust  enemy 
the  minister  of  thy  justice.  But  yet,  my  God,  if 
in  thy  wisdom  this  be  the  aptest  chastisement  for 
my  inexcusable  folly ;  if  this  low  bondage  be 
fittest  for  my  over-high  desires ;  if  the  pride  of  my 
not  enough  humble  heart  be  not  enough  to  be 
broken,  O  Lord,  I  yield  unto  thy  will,  and  joy 
fully  embrace  what  sorrow  thou  wilt  have  me 
suffer.  Only  thus  much  let  me  crave  of  thee,  (let 
my  craving,  O  Lord,  be  accepted  of  thee,  since 
even  that  proceeds  from  thee,)  let  me  crave  even 
by  the  noblest  title,  which  in  my  greatest  affliction 
I  may  give  myself,  that  I  am  thy  creature,  and 
by  thy  goodness  (which  is  thyself)  that  thou  wilt 
suffer  some  beam  of  thy  majesty  so  to  shine  into 
my  mind,  that  it  may  still  depend  confidently  on 
thee.  Let  calamity  be  the  exercise,  but  not  the 
overthrow,  of  my  virtue  ;  let  their  power  prevail, 
but  prevail  not  to  destruction ;  let  my  greatness 
be  their  prey;  let  my  pain  be  the  sweetness  of 
their  revenge ;  let  them  (if  so  it  seem  good  unto 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  175 

thee)  vex  me  with  more  and  more  punishment. 
But,  O  Lord,  let  never  their  wickedness  have 
such  a  hand  but  that  I  may  carry  a  pure  mind  in 
a  pure  body!"*  And  pausing  awhile — "and,  O 
most  gracious  Lord,"  said  she,  "  whatever  becomes 
of  me,  preserve  the  virtuous  Musidorus." 

As  may  be  supposed,  Cecropia  found  herself 
again  foiled,  for  if  "  Philoclea  with  sweet  and 
humble  dealing  did  avoid  her  assaults,  Pamela 
with  the  majesty  of  virtue  beat  them  off." 

Amphialus  and  his  mother  are  diverted,  for  a 
time,  by  an  attack  upon  the  castle,  from  the  parti- 
zans  of  Basilius.  The  assailants  are  driven  back, 
after  a  good  display  of  bravery  on  both  sides,  and 
"  no  sword  pays  so  large  a  tribute  of  souls  to  the 
eternal  kingdom  as  that  of  Amphialus."  One 
knight,  who  has  hitherto  been  of  those  who  "  fight 
and  run  away,"  loses  his  head,  and,  in  his  dying 
convulsions,  forcing  his  spurs  into  his  steed,  the 
animal  rushes  so  madly  into  the  enemy's  ranks  as 

*  This  prayer  is  celebrated  as  having  been  often  repeated 
by  Charles  I.  during  his  imprisonment ;  and  he  held  in  his 
hand,  as  he  ascended  the  scaffold,  the  Eikon  Basilikaes  in 
which  a  copy  of  it  was  included.  Milton  pours  upon  him  a 
vial  of  puritanical  wrath  for  using  a  petition  "  addressed  by  a 
heathen  woman  to  a  heathen  god,"  and  quoted  from  the  "  vain 
amatorious  poem  "  of  the  Arcadia.  However,  as  he  also  cen 
sures  the  monarch  for  plagiarizing  passages  from  David's 
Psalms,  the  arrow  against  Sir  Philip  falls  harmless. 


176         THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

to  occasion  the  proverb  that  "  Policrates  was  only 
valiant  after  his  head  was  cut  off."  A  more 
poetical  end  is  that  of  Phebilus,  who,  "having 
long  loved  Philoclea,  though  for  the  meanness  of 
his  estate  he  durst  not  reveal  it,"  is  attacked  by 
Amphialus,  when,  "  thinking  to  die,  he  cries, 
'  O  Philoclea!  this  joys  me  that  I  die  for  thy 
sake ! ' '  His  antagonist,  hearing  this,  will  not 
vouchsafe  him  the  honor  of  dying  for  Philoclea, 
but  turns  his  sword  another  way,  "  doing  him  no 
hurt  for  over  much  hatred.  But  what  good  did 
that  to  poor  Phebilus,  if,  escaping  a  valiant  hand, 
he  was  slain  by  a  base  soldier,  who,  seeing  him 
so  disarmed,  thrust  him  through  ?  " 

The  alarm  being  dispelled,  Cecropia  renews  her 
attack  upon  the  captive  sisters.  From  Philoclea 
she  receives  no  answer  "  but  a  silence  sealed  up 
in  virtue,  and  so  sweetly  graced  as  that  in  one 
instant  it  carries  with  it  both  grace  and  humble 
ness."  "  Pamela,  having  wearied  herself  with 
reading,  and  disdaining  the  company  of  the  gen 
tlewomen  appointed  to  attend  her,  was  working 
upon  a  purse  certain  roses  and  lilies.  The  flowers 
she  had  wrought  carried  such  life  in  them  that 
the  cunningest  painter  might  have  learned  of  her 
needle  ;  which,  with  so  pretty  a  manner,  made  his 
careers  to  and  fro  the  cloth,  as  if  the  needle  itself 
would  have  been  loth  to  go  from  such  a  mistress, 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  177 

but   that   it   hoped   to   return    thitherward   very 
quickly  again  ;  the  cloth  looking  with  many  eyes 
upon  her  and  lovingly  embracing  the  wounds  she 
gave  it ;  the  shears  also  were  at  hand  to  behead 
the  silk  that  was  grown  too  short.   "  Full  happy  is 
he,"   begins   the   artful    Cecropia,   "to  whom   a 
purse,  by  this  manner  and  by  this  hand  wrought, 
is  dedicated.     In  faith  he  shall  have  cause  to  ac 
count  it  not  as  a  purse  for  treasure,  but  as  a 
treasure  in  itself."     "  I  promise  you,"  says  Pamela, 
"  I    wrought    it    but    to    make    tedious     hours 
believe  I  thought  not  of  them."     The  beauty  of 
the  purse  furnishes  Cecropia  a  text  to  descant  upon 
that  of  Pamela.     She  dwells  in  glowing  language 
upon  her  charms,  reminds  her  of  her  father's   de 
termination  to  keep  aloof  all   admirers,  and  asks, 
"  Will  you  suffer  your  beauty  to  be  hidden  in  the 
wrinkles  of  his  peevish  thoughts  ? "     "  If  he  be 
peevish,"  replied   Pamela,  "yet  is  he  my  father ; 
and  how  beautiful  soever  I  be,  I  am  his  daughter; 
God  claims  at  my  hand  obedience,  and  makes  me 
no  judge   of  his  imperfections."     Cecropia  now 
thinks  that  if  this  conscientious  maiden  can  be 
made  to  doubt  the  overruling  Deity  in  whom  she 
believes,  her  scruples  may  be  overcome ;  and  she 
proceeds  to  attack  her  faith  with  the  arguments 
that  we  still  hear  from  bewildered  mystics  and 
freethinkers.     "Foolish  fear   and  ignorance  were 
12 


178  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

the  first  inventers  of  those  conceits.  Chance  is 
the  only  cause  of  all  things — yesterday  was  but 
as  to-day ;  and  to-morrow  will  tread  the  same 
footsteps  as  his  foregoers;  so  as  is  manifest 
enough  that  all  things  follow  but  the  course  of  its 
own  nature,  saving  only  man,  who,  while  by  the 
pregnancy  of  his  imagination  he  strives  to  things 
supernatural,  meanwhile  he  loseth  his  own  natural 
felicity.  Be  wise,  and  that  wisdom  shall  be  a 
god  unto  thee ;  be  contented,  and  that  is  thy 
heaven ;  for  to  think  that  those  powers,  if  there 
be  any  such,  are  moved  either  by  the  eloquence 
of  our  prayers,  or  in  a  chafe  at  the  folly  of  our 
actions,  carries  as  much  reason  as  if  flies  should 
think,  that  men  take  great  care  which  of  them 
hums  sweetest,  and  which  of  them  flies  nim 
blest." 

Pamela's  indignant  reply  is  the  still  unanswer 
able  refutation  of  atheism ;  and  so  forcible  and 
clear  that  it  is  all  well  worth  transcribing,  but  we 
can  quote  only  a  few  passages : — 

"Peace,  peace!  unworthy  to  breathe,  that  dost 
not  acknowledge  the  breath-giver !  most  unworthy 
to  have  a  tongue,  which  speakest  against  Him 
through  whom  thou  speakest!  you  say,  yesterday 
was  as  to-day.  What  doth  that  argue  but  that 
there  is  a  constancy  in  the  everlasting  Governor  ? 
Would  you  have  an  inconstant  God?  since  we 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  179 

count  a  man  foolish  that  is  inconstant.  He  is 
not  seen,  you  say,  and  yet  you  might  see  enough 
of  the  Creator  in  his  works,  if  you  were  not  like 
such  who  for  sport-sake  willingly  hoodwink  them 
selves,  to  receive  blows  the  easier.  You  say  be 
cause  we  know  not  the  causes  of  things,  therefore 
fear  was  the  mother  of  superstition  ;  nay,  because 
we  know  that  each  effect  hath  a  cause,  that  hath 
engendered  a  true  and  lively  devotion.  Do  we 
not  see  goodly  cause  for  this  lively  faith  in  all 
around  ?  For  this  lovely  world  of  which  we  are, 
and  in  which  we  live,  hath  not  its  being  by 
chance ;  on  which  opinion  of  chance,  it  is  beyond 
marvel  by  what  chance  any  brain  could  stumble. 
For  if  it  be  eternal,  as  you  would  seem  to  con 
ceive  it,  eternity  and  chance  are  things  unsuffer- 
able  together;  for  that  is  chanceable  which  hap- 
peneth  ;  and  if  it  happen,  there  was  a  time  before 
it  happened  when  it  might  not  have  happened ; 
or  else  it  did  not  happen  ;  and  so,  if  chanceable, 
not  eternal ;  and  if  eternal,  not  of  chance.  And 
as  absurd  it  is  to  think  that  if  it  had  a  beginning, 
its  beginning  was  derived  from  chance ;  for  chance 
could  never  make  all  things  of  nothing;  and  if 
there  were  substances  before,  which  by  chance 
should  meet  to  make  up  this  world,  thereon  fol 
lows  another  bottomless  pit  of  absurdities;  for 
then  those  substances  must  needs  have  been  from 


180  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

ever,  and  so  eternal;  and  that  eternal  causes 
should  bring  forth  chanceable  effects,  is  as  sensi 
ble  as  that  the  sun  should  be  the  author  of  dark 
ness.  Again,  if  it  were  chanceable,  then  was  it 
not  necessary  ;  whereby  you  take  away  all  conse 
quents.  But  we  see  in  all  things,  in  some  respect 
or  other,  necessity  of  consequence;  therefore  in 
reason  we  must  know  that  causes  were  necessary. 
Besides,  chance  is  variable,  or  else  it  is  not  to  be 
called  chance ;  but  we  see  this  world  is  steady 
and  permanent.  If  nothing  but  chance  had  glued 
these  pieces  of  this  all,  the  heavy  parts  would 
have  gone  infinitely  downwards,  the  light  infinitely 
upward,  and  so  never  have  met  to  have  made  up 
this  goodly  body.  Perfect  order,  perfect  beauty, 
perfect  constancy,  if  these  be  the  children  of 
chance,  let  wisdom  be  counted  the  root  of  wick 
edness  !  But  you  may  perhaps  affirm,  that  one 
universal  nature  is  the  knitting  together  of  these 
many  parts,  to  such  an  excellent  unity.  If  you 
mean  a  nature  of  wisdom,  goodness,  and  provi 
dence,  which  knows  what  it  doth,  then  say  you 
that  which  I  seek  of  you;  but  if  you  mean  a 
nature  as  we  speak  of  the  fire,  which  goeth  up 
ward  it  knows  not  why,  and  of  the  nature  of 
the  sea,  which  in  ebbing  and  flowing,  seems  to 
observe  so  just  a  dance,  and  yet  understands  no 
music  :  it  is  still  but  the  same  absurdity,  super- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  181 

scribed  with  another  title.  This  world  cannot 
otherwise  consist,  but  by  a  mind  of  wisdom, 
which  governs  it ;  which,  whether  you  will  allow 
to  be  the  Creator  thereof,  as  undoubtedly  he  is,  or 
the  soul  and  Governor  thereof ; — most  certain  it  is, 
that  whether  he  govern  all,  or  make  all,  his  power 
is  above  either  his  creatures  or  his  government. 
And  if  his  power  be  above  all  things,  then,  con 
sequently,  it  must  needs  be  infinite,  since  there  is 
nothing  above  it  to  limit  it.  For,  beyond  which 
there  is  nothing,  must  needs  be  boundless  and  in 
finite.  If  his  power  be  infinite,  then  likewise 
must  his  knowledge  be  infinite.  If  his  knowledge 
and  power  be  infinite,  then  must  needs  his  good 
ness  and  justice  march  in  the  same  rank  ;  for  in- 
finiteness  of  power  and  knowledge,  without  like 
measure  of  goodness  must  necessarily  bring  forth 
destruction  and  ruin,  and  not  ornament  and  pres 
ervation.  Since,  then,  there  is  a  God,  and  an 
all-knowing  God,  so  as  he  seeth  into  the  darkest 
of  all  natural  secrets,  which  is  the  heart  of  man ; 
and  sees  therein  the  deepest  dissembled  thoughts ; 
nay,  sees  the  thoughts  before  they  be  thought ; — 
since  he  is  just,  to  exercise  his  might ;  and  mighty 
to  perform  his  justice  ;  assure  thyself  that  the 
time  will  come,  when  thou  shalt  know  that  power, 
by  feeling  it ;  when  thou  shalt  see  his  wisdom,  in 
the  manifesting  thy  shamefulness  ;  and  shalt  only 


182  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

perceive  him  to  have  been  a  Creator  in  thy  de 
struction  " ! 

"  And  here,"  says  Sidney,  "  Cecropia,  like  a 
bat,  (which,  though  it  have  eyes  to  discern  the 
sun,  yet  hath  so  evil  eyes  that  it  cannot  delight 
in  the  sun,)  found  a  truth,  but  could  not  love  it." 

The  story  of  the  beleaguered  princesses  having 
spread  through  Greece,  many  renowned  paladins 
came  to  their  rescue,  and  for  a  long  time  we  hear 
only  the  trumpet  of  victory,  and  see  the  glitter 
ing  armor  and  pawing  steeds  of  the  battle-field. 
One  knight  rides  a  milk-white  charger,  whose 
mane  and  tail  are  dyed  crimson,  his  caparison 
is  an  imitation  of  vine-branches,  and  hung  with 
clusters  of  grapes ;  the  rider  is  in  blue  armor ; 
on  his  shield  is  a  grayhound  outrunning  his  fel 
lows,  and  the  motto,  "  The  glory,  not  the  prey." 
Of  another,  named  Argalus,  there  is  a  pretty 
story  told,  which  we  will  epitomize,  as  illustrative 
of  the  character  of  Sir  Philip's  favorite  heroes. 
He  is  about  to  marry  the  beautiful  Parthenia, 
when  a  discarded  rival,  incensed  with  his  own 
refusal,  forms  a  fiendish  plot  to  avenge  himself, 
and  punish  the  lovers.  Obtaining  an  interview 
with  Parthenia,  under  the  mask  of  friendship,  he 
forcibly  seizes  her,  and  rubs  upon  her  face  a  viru 
lent  poison,  which  occasions  a  long  illness,  and 
utterly  destroys  her  beauty.  Argalus,  who  had 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  183 

gone  away  to  invite  his  wedding  guests,  returns 
home  with  joyful  expectancy,  only  to  find  his 
bride  in  this  lamentable  state,  and  heroically  re 
solved  to  release  him  from  his  vows.  In  vain  he 
protests  against  the  Iphigenian  sacrifice,  and  de 
clares  that  his  love  is  but  deepened  by  her  mis 
fortunes.  Parthenia  long  resists  his  importunity, 
and  finally  quits  the  country  without  leaving  any 
clue  to  her  wanderings.  In  the  bitterness  of  de 
spair,  Argalus  starts  off  on  a  crusade  against  his 
rival,  who  had  enlisted  in  the  war  of  the  Helots, 
and  in  the  course  of  his  migrations  becomes  a 
guest  of  Kalander,  at  the  same  time  with  Pyro- 
cles  and  Musidorus.  One  day,  as  they  are  all  dis 
coursing  together  in  the  banqueting  hall,  Argalus 
is  told  that  a  young  and  noble  lady  desires  an 
audience  with  him.  With  amazed  delight  he 
beholds,  as  he  supposes,  his  lost  Parthenia,  re 
stored  to  all  her  native  loveliness ;  but  the  lady, 
with  grave  dignity  of  mien,  tells  him  that  he  is 
mistaken  ;  she  is  a  niece  of  Helen,  Queen  of  Cor 
inth,  and  a  cousin  of  Parthenia,  whom  she  nearly 
resembles.  "  Parthenia,"  she  says,  "  sought  refuge 
in  Corinth,  and  died  a  few  days  since,  leaving  for 
Argalus  a  message  which  she  had  promised  to 
deliver."  With  modest  grace,  the  damsel  com 
municates  Parthenia's  request,  that  Argalus  would 
receive  and  espouse  this  friend,  whose  character 


184  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

and  person  are  so  similar  to  her  own,  that  she 
cannot  fail  to  prove  an  acceptable  substitute. 
Argalus  thanks  her  for  a  proffer  so  complimen 
tary,  and  avows  himself  ready  to  fulfil  all  her 
behests  as  her  slave  through  life ;  that  if  his  heart 
were  his  to  give,  she  should  have  that  too  ;  but  it 
was  in  the  grave  of  Parthenia,  and  he  felt  that  he 
should  not  long  tarry  after  her.  "  If  it  were  only 
her  beauty  that  I  love,"  he  says,  "  I  should  love 
you  who  have  the  same  beauty  ;  but  it  was  Par- 
thenia's  self,  with  a  love  which  no  likeness  can 
make,  no  commandment  dissolve,  no  foulness 
defile,  and  no  death  finish."  The  veritable  Par 
thenia,  who  has  been  cured  by  the  Queen's 
physician,  and  has  tested  by  this  stratagem  the 
constancy  of  her  lover,  now  confesses  her  iden 
tity;  the  nuptials  are  celebrated,  and  Kalander, 
with  his  other  guests,  unites  in  them  with  friendly 
zeal.  After  the  daughters  of  Basilius  are  carried 
off  to  the  old  fortress  by  the  lake,  he  sends  a 
request  to  his  kinsman,  Argalus,  to  challenge 
Amphialus  for  their  rescue.  Here  follows  an 
exquisite  little  picture  of  married  bliss : — 

"  The  messenger  made  haste,  and  found  Arga- 
lus  at  a  castle  of  his  own,  sitting  in  a  parlor 
with  the  fair  Parthenia,  he  reading  aloud  the 
stories  of  Hercules,  she  by  him,  as  to  hear  him 
read ;  but  while  his  eyes  looked  on  the  book,  she 


SIE  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  185 

looked  on  his  eyes,  sometimes  staying  him  with 
some  pretty  question,  not  so  much  to  be  resolved 
of  the  doubt,  as  to  give  him  occasion  to  look 
upon  her.  A  happy  couple,  he  joying  in  her,  she 
joying  in  herself,  because  she  enjoyed  him ;  both 
increased  their  riches  by  giving  to  each  other, 
each  making  one  life  double,  because  they  made 
a  double  life  one,  where  desire  never  wanted 
satisfaction,  nor  satisfaction  ever  bred  satiety ; 
he  ruling,  because  she  would  obey;  or,  rather, 
because  she  would  obey,  she  therein  ruling." 

This  halcyon  repose  is  rudely  broken  by  the 
summons  which  Argalus  feels  imperious  upon 
his  honor.  He  resists,  with  the  tenderness  of  a 
true  hero,  the  tears  and  entreaties  of  his  wife, 
and  sallies  forth  to  the  fight.  After  a  long  and 
ardent  combat,  in  which  miracles  of  valor  are 
achieved  on  both  sides,  he  falls  mortally  wounded, 
and  Parthenia,  who  has  made  her  way  to  the 
scene  of  action,  receives  his  parting  breath.  A 
few  days  after,  Amphialus  is  challenged  by  a 
newly-arrived  knight,  called  the  Knight  of  the 
Tomb,  who  is  arrayed  in  black  armor,  painted  in 
resemblance  of  an  open  grave ;  the  greaves  upon 
his  legs  painted  with  crawling  worms,  and  his 
steed  hung  with  cypress  branches.  Rushing  furi 
ously  into  the  melee,  the  unknown  champion  soon 
meets  the  death  he  courts ;  and  as  his  helmet  is 


186  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF 

unloosed,  the  long  golden  locks  and  fair  features 
betray  the  loving  wife,  who  has  thus  thrown  away 
the  life  no  longer  to  be  endured.*  The  whole  story 
teems  with  irresistible  pathos,  and  is  told  in  a  lan 
guage  that  is  unexceptionable  to  even  modern  taste. 
Indeed,  the  book  abounds  with  so  many  passages 
of  unaffected  beauty,  that  we  are  insensibly  led 
along  through  its  obsolete  orthography,  until  we 
are  fairly  lost  arnid  the  peaceful  groves  of  Arca 
dia,  listening  to  the  oaten  pipes  of  its  shepherds, 
or  hurrying  with  its  heroes  from  gentle  vows  be 
neath  a  star-lit  sky,  to  the  field  where  their  inju 
ries  are  redressed,  and  their  valor  vindicates  the 
right.f  We  might  multiply  quotations  of  equal 

*  "  Where  is  the  antique  glory  now  become, 
That  whylome  wont  in  wemen  to  appeare  ? 
Where  be  the  brave  atchievements  doen  by  some  ? 
Where  be  the  batteilles,  where  the  shield  and  speare, 
And  all  the  conquests  which  them  high  did  reare, 
That  matter  made  for  famous  poets  verse  ?  " 

f  "  The  waies,  through  which  my  weary  steps  I  guyde 
In  this  delightful  land  of  Faery, 
Are  so  exceeding  spacious  and  wyde, 
And  sprinckled  with  such  sweet  variety 
Of  all  that  pleasant  is  to  eare  or  eye, 
That  I,  nigh  ravisht  with  rare  thoughts  delight, 
My  tedious  travell  doe  forget  thereby ; 
And,  when  I  'gin  to  feele  decay  of  might, 
It  strength  to  me  supplies,  and  chears  my  dulled  spright  " 
SPENSER'S  Faerie  Queene. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  187 

interest  through  a  large  volume  ;  but  as  our  object 
is  merely  to  present  a  specimen  of  the  work  that 
engaged  some  of  the  idle  hours  of  Philip  Sidney, 
we  must  turn  away  with  this  little  garland  of 
flowers,  regretfully  leaving  a  prairie-fall  behind. 
Hastening  therefore  to  the  conclusion  of  the 
story,  we  will  simply  add,  that  during  the  pro 
longed  siege  the  damsels  are  treated  with  great 
barbarity  by  Cecropia,  and  each  is  by  a  strata 
gem  made  to  believe  that  her  sister  is  beheaded 
before  her  eyes.  Amphialus  discovers  at  length 
the  cruelty  of  his  mother,  and  in  his  indignation 
pursues  her  with  a  drawn  sword  to  the  roof  of 
the  castle.  Supposing  that  he  intends  to  strike 
her,  she  throws  herself  from  the  parapet,  and  is, 
of  course,  instantly  killed;  and  Amphialus,  horror- 
struck  that  he  has  caused  his  mother's  death,  faUs 
upon  his  sabre  and  dies. 

The  princesses  are  restored  to  their  home,  and, 
soon  after,  just  as  they  are  preparing  to  elope 
with  the  young  princes  who  have  performed  pro 
digious  feats  in  their  behalf,  Basilius  is  accident 
ally  poisoned  in  such  a  manner  that  suspicion 
falls  upon  them.  They  are  arrested,  and  about 
to  be  executed,  when  the  King  of  Byzantium, 
the  father  of  Pyrocles,  appears  with  a  large  army, 
vindicates  the  princesses,  and  restores  order  to 
Arcadia ;  the  king  and  queen  make  mutual  con- 


188  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

fession  of  their  folly,  and  the  lovers  are  united, 
and,  like  all  other  married  people,  "  live  very 
happily  all  the  rest  of  their  lives." 

We  cannot  close  the  volume  without  culling 
at  random  a  few  more  of  the  thoughts  that  enrich 
its  pages,  and  indicate  the  fertility  of  the  mind 
from  which  they  emanated. 

"  Give  tribute,  but  not  oblation,  to  human  wis 
dom." 

"  Longer  I  would  not  wish  to  draw  breath, 
than  I  may  keep  myself  unspotted  of  any  hei 
nous  crime." 

"  In  the  clear  mind  of  virtue,  treason  can  find 
no  hiding-place." 

"  The  only  disadvantage  of  an  honest  heart  is 
credulity." 

"  The  hero's  soul  may  be  separated  from  his 
body,  but  never  alienated  from  the  remembrance 
of  virtue." 

"  Doing  good  is  the  only  certainly  happy  action 
of  a  man's  life." 

"  The  journey  of  high  honor  lies  not  in  smooth 
ways." 

"  Who  shoots  at  the  mid-day  sun,  though  he  is 
sure  he  shall  never  hit  the  mark,  yet  as  sure  he 
is,  that  he  shall  shoot  higher  than  he  who  aims 
but  at  a  bush." 

"  Remember  that  in  all  miseries,  lamenting  be 
comes  fools,  and  action,  the  wise." 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  189 

"  The  great,  in  affliction,  bear  a  countenance 
more  princely  than  they  were  wont ;  for  it  is 
the  temper  of  highest  hearts,  like  the  palm-tree, 
to  strive  most  upward  when  it  is  most  bur- 
thened." 

"  The  perfect  hero  passeth  through  the  multi 
tude  as  a  man  that  neither  disdains  a  people,  nor 
yet  is  any  thing  tickled  with  their  flattery." 

"  In  a  brave  bosom,  honor  cannot  be  rocked 
asleep  by  affection." 

"  Contention  for  trifles  can  get  but  a  trifling 
victory." 

"  Prefer  truth,  before  the  maintaining  of  an 
opinion." 

"  A  man  of  true  honor  thinks  himself  greater 
in  being  subject  to  his  word  given,  than  in  being 
lord  of  a  principality." 

"  Joyful  is  woe  for  a  noble  cause,  and  welcome 
all  its  miseries." 

"  There  is  nothing  evil  but  what  is  within  us ; 
the  rest  is  either  natural  or  accidental." 

"  While  there  is  hope  left,  let  not  the  weakness 
of  sorrow  make  the  strength  of  resolution  lan 
guish." 

"  Who  frowns  at  others'  feasts,  had  better  bide 
away." 

"  Friendship  is  so  rare,  as  it  is  to  be  doubted, 
whether  it  be  a  thing  indeed,  or  but  a  word." 


190  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

"  Prefer  your  friend's  profit  before  your  own 
desire." 

"  A  just  man  hateth  the  evil,  but  not  the  evil 
doer." 

"  One  look  (in  a  clear  judgment)  from  a  fair 
and  virtuous  woman  is  more  acceptable  than  all 
the  kindnesses  so  prodigally  bestowed  by  a 
wanton  beauty." 

"  It  is  folly  to  believe  that  he  can  faithfully 
love,  who  does  not  love  faithfulness." 

"  Who  doth  desire  that  his  wife  should  be 
chaste,  first  be  he  true  ;  for  truth  doth  deserve 
truth." 

"  It  is  no  less  vain  to  wish  death  than  it  is 
cowardly  to  fear  it." 

"Every  thing  that  is  mine,  even  to  my  life, 
is  hers  I  love,  but  the  secret  of  my  friend  is  not 
mine." 

We  will  close  with  a  parting  address  of  friend 
ship,  leaving  a  mine  of  wealth  behind. 

"  If  I  bare  thee  love,  for  mine  own  sake ;  and 
that  our  friendship  grew  because  I,  for  my  part, 
might  rejoice  to  enjoy  such  a  friend  ;  I  should 
now  so  thoroughly  feel  mine  own  loss,  that  I 
should  call  the  heaven  and  earth  to  witness,  how 
cruelly  you  rob  me  of  my  greatest  comfort,  (rob 
ing  me  of  yourself,)  measuring  the  breach  of 
friendship  by  mine  own  passion.  But  because 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  191 

indeed  I  love  thee  for  thyself ;  and  in  my  judg 
ment  judge  of  thy  worthiness  to  be  loved,  I  am 
content  to  build  my  pleasure  upon  thy  comfort ; 
and  then  will  I  deem  my  hap  in  friendship,  great, 
when  I  shall  see  thee,  whom  I  love,  happy ;  let 
me  be  only  sure  that  thou  lovest  me  still ;  the 
only  price  of  true  affection !  Go  therefore  on, 
with  the  guide  of  virtue,  and  service  of  fortune. — 
Let  thy  love  be  loved ;  thy  desires,  prosperous  ; 
thy  escape,  safe  ;  and  thy  journey,  easy.  Let 
every  thing  yield  its  help  to  thy  desert !  For 
my  part,  absence  shall  not  take  thee  from  mine 
eyes ;  nor  afflictions  bar  me  from  gladding  in  thy 
good ;  nor  a  possessed  heart  keep  thee  from  the 
place  it  hath  for  ever  allotted  thee.  My  only 
friend !  I  joy  in  thy  presence,  but  I  joy  more  in 
thy  good.  That  friendship  brings  forth  the  fruits 
of  enmity,  which  prefers  its  own  tenderness  be 
fore  its  friend's  advantage.  Farewell !  " 

Horace  Walpole,  with  characteristic  flippancy, 
pronounced  the  Arcadia  a  "  tedious,  lamentable 
pastoral."  He  either  never  read  it,  or  had  not 
the  discernment  to  see  its  merits.  In  Sidney's 
own  day,  and  long  after,  it  was  the  favorite 
romance  of  the  courtiers  and  ladies  of  England; 
it  went  through  fourteen  editions,  and  was  trans 
lated  into  several  languages.  Shakspeare  bor 
rowed  many  incidents  from  it ;  Sir  Walter  Ra- 


192  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

leigh  made  it  the  companion  of  his  prison  hours ; 
eminent  writers  of  the  next  century  repeatedly 
allude  to  it  with  praise,  and  many  of  the  pretty 
conceits  for  which  later  writers  receive  credit, 
may  be  traced  back  to  its  glittering  pages. 
Cowper  writes  in  the  Task: 

"  Would  I  had  fallen  upon  those  happier  days 
That  poets  celebrate,  those  golden  times 
And  those  Arcadian  scenes,  that  Maro  sings, 
And  Sidney,  warbler  of  poetic  prose." 

The  pastoral  songs  and  comic  plays  inter 
spersed  through  the  book  are  unworthy  of  the 
rest ;  but  they  are  not  linked  with  the  story,  and 
are  only  a  tribute  to  the  still  crude  taste  of  the 
Elizabethan  age.  The  varied  emotions  of  the 
human  heart,  the  fervor  of  love  and  truth  of 
friendship,  are  portrayed  in  their  purest  and 
highest  form;  and  to  the  simple  earnestness  of 
nature  is  added  the  ideal  grandeur  of  imagina 
tion.  It  is  not  only  as  a  reflection  of  the  mind 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  that  the  Arcadia  is  valuable, 
but  as  a  rich  field  of  poetic  thought  and  imagery, 
for  the  reward  of  the  careful  gleaner.  In  the 
public  library,  plethoric  with  the  lore  of  nations, 
this  quaint  old  quarto  may  rest  upon  its  own 
peculiar  merits;  although,  it  must  be  admitted, 
they  often  seem  to  be  hopelessly  buried  in  sen- 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  193 

tences  which  are  involved,  pedantic,  and  like  the 
apparel  of  the  times,  cumbered  with  tinsel  and 
embroidery.  It  was  not  intended  by  Sidney  for 
publication,  and,  in  fact,  it  did  not  appear  in 
print  until  after  his  death.  Written  merely  to 
beguile  his  leisure  hours  at  Wilton,  and  to  please 
the  sister  whom  he  tenderly  loved,  he  expresses  a 
fear  in  the  preface  to  her  that,  "  like  the  spider's 
web,  it  will  be  thought  only  fit  to  be  swept 
away."  "  You  desired  me  to  do  it,  and  your 
desire  to  my  heart  is  an  absolute  commandment. 
It  is  not  for  severer  eyes,  being  but  a  trifle,  and 
triflingly  handed." — "  Your  dear  self  can  best 
witness  the  manner ;  being  done  in  loose  sheets, 
most  of  it  in  your  presence." 

We  conclude  this  chapter  with  an  interesting 
extract  from  the  London  Athenaeum,  Jan.  2, 
1858,— 

"  In  an  old  folio  copy  of  the  Arcadia,  preserved 
at  Wilton,  have  been  found  two  beautiful  and 
interesting  relics, — a  lock  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
hair,  and  an  original  poem,  in  the  hand  of  Sir 
Philip  Sidney.  The  hair  was  given  by  the  fair 
hands  of  the  Queen  to  her  young  hero.  The 
poet  repaid  the  precious  gift  in  the  following 
lines : — 

'  Her  inward  worth  all  outward  worth  transcends, 
Envy  her  merits  with  regret  commends ; 
13 


194  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

Like  sparkling  gems  her  virtues  draw  the  light, 
And  in  her  conduct  she  was  always  bright. 
When  she  imparts  her  thoughts  her  words  have  force, 
And  sense  and  wisdom  flow  in  sweet  discourse.' 

"  The  date  of  this  exchange  of  gifts  was  1583, 
when  the  Queen  was  forty,  and  the  Knight, 
twenty-nine. 

"Elizabeth's  hair  is  very  fine,  soft  and  silky, 
with  the  undulation  of  water ;  its  color,  a  fair  au 
burn  or  golden  brown,  without  a  tinge  of  red,  as 
her  detractors  assert,  but  the  soft  lines  are  flecked 
with  light,  and  shine  as  though  powdered  with 
gold  dust.  In  every  country  under  the  sun,  such 
hair  would  be  pronounced  beautiful." 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

ETURNING  to  the  annals  of  the  life  of 
Philip  Sidney,  we  infer  that  he  remained 
at  Wilton  until  1581,  when  he  represented 
in  Parliament  his  native  county  of  Kent,  and  is 
sometimes  incidentally  mentioned  as  a  member 
of  select  committees  on  important  subjects.  He 
was  now  widely  known  as  a  chivalrous  and  pat 
riotic  man,  with  the  will  to  do  and  the  soul  to 
dare  whenever  the  right  required  defence  or  the 
wrong  demanded  redress.  He  had  not,  it  is 
true,  performed  any  startling  acts  of  heroism  ;  nor 
had  applauding  multitudes  borne  him  in  the  tri 
umphal  car,  or  crowned  him  with  the  bays  of  the 
victor ;  but  his  capacities  for  action  in  any  glori 
ous  arena,  were  as  manifest  to  those  who  knew 
him  as  is  the  strength  of  a  giant  in  his  repose. 
He  was  urged  by  two  military  leaders  on  the 
continent  to  join  their  enterprises.  One  was 
Prince  Casimir,  who  conducted  to  the  aid  of 
Holland  an  army  of  German  mercenaries,  under 
the  pay  and  patronage  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


196  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

Another  was  Don  Antonio,  one  of  the  seven 
claimants  to  the  throne  of  Portugal,  after  the 
death  of  Henry  V.  Sidney  wisely  declined  both 
these  invitations.  Casimir  was  an  obstinate, 
reckless  adventurer,  and  his  marauding  troops 
only  pillaged  the  country  they  had  engaged  to 
protect.  The  Portuguese  insurgent  had  no  just 
claim  to  the  crown,  and  neither  the  wisdom  nor 
the  nerve  to  sustain  its  assumption.  The  long 
talons  of  that  neighboring  bird  of  prey,  Philip 
II.,  quietly  clutched  the  kingdom,  and  the  dis 
crowned  monarch  retired  to  Paris,  and  died  of 
grief  for  its  loss. 

A  painful  event  to  Sidney,  about  this  time,  was 
the  death  of  his  friend  Languet.  Two  years 
before,  the  latter  visited  England  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  seeing  one  whom  he  loved  with  pa 
rental  fondness  and  watched  with  parental  care. 
Distinguished  attention  was  offered  him  by  the 
English,  whom  he  pronounced  the  happiest  na 
tion  in  Christendom.  He  was  greatly  revered  by 
his  own  countrymen ;  and  Dr.  Zouch  says  that 
"  the  history  of  his  life  would  be  the  history  of 
Europe  for  near  a  century,  as  none  of  his  rank 
in  society  had  a  more  powerful  influence  in  the 
direction  of  public  affairs."  *  All  the  eminent 
authors  of  the  day  gave  to  his  learning  and  his 
*  Zouch's  Life  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  197 

moral  merit  their  concurrent  praise  ;  and  Mornay 
Da  Plessis  wrote  of  him,  "  He  was  in  reality  what 
many  wish  to  appear  to  be ;  he  lived  as  the  best 
of  men  should  die." 

This  truly  illustrious  man  was  buried  at  Ant 
werp  with  great  ceremony,  William  of  Orange 
acting  as  chief  mourner. 

But,  hand  in  hand,  Tragedy  and  Comedy 
walk  the  world  together.  As  the  one  flings 
open  the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  the  other  rings 
in  his  ear  the  silver  bells  of  mirth.  From  the 
grave  of  Languet,  to  which  his  mournful  fancy 
wandered,  Sidney  was  summoned  to  take  part 
in  one  of  those  displays  of  knight-errantry  which 
constituted  so  marked  a  feature  of  Elizabeth's 
reign,  and  were  intended  chiefly  as  censers  for 
the  incense  that  was  her  vital  element.  Not 
content  that  every  man  should  kneel  as  he  en 
tered  her  presence — Lord  Burleigh  only  being 
exempted  in  his  later  years  on  account  of  the 
gout — and  not  satiated  with  the  servile  homage 
constantly  breathed  to  her  in  private,  she  some 
times  expected  a  shower  of  public  flatteries. 

The  pause  in  her  matrimonial  negotiations, 
after  the  letter  of  Philip  Sidney,  was  farther 
extended  by  the  civil  discords  of  France,  which, 
with  his  own  intrigues  for  the  government  of 
the  Netherlands,  so  occupied  the  Duke  of  Anjou 


198  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

as  to  leave  him  little  time  for  dalliance  in  unre 
warded  lovemaking.  But  Simiers,  the  subtle 
pleader,  was  left  in  England  to  watch  the  pro 
gress  of  affairs,  and  to  carry  significant  messages 
back  and  forth ;  and  so  cleverly  did  he  brush  away 
from  his  master's  portrait  the  gathering  dust  of 
time,  that  its  attractions  really  seemed  to  brighten 
with  the  lapse  of  years.  In  October,  1581,  Anjou, 
resolving  upon  a  final  master-stroke,  sent  over  a 
splendid  legation  to  bring  matters  to  a  close. 
The  "crowned  nymph"  as  poor  Stubbs  called 
her,  chose  to  receive  the  French  peers  in  a  sort  of 
fairy  palace  which  she  had  built  for  the  occasion 
at  Whitehall,  and  there  she  entertained  them 
with  banquets  and  pageants,  while  her  ministers 
were  preparing  the  marriage  articles.  This  spa 
cious  structure  was  built  of  timber  and  canvas, 
and  lighted  by  nearly  three  hundred  windows, 
and  on  each  side  were  ten  galleries  for  spectators. 
The  walls  were  spangled  with  gold,  and  hung 
with  festoons  of  fruits,  flowers,  and  garlands  of 
ivy  and  bay  leaves.  The  lofty  dome  was  painted 
blue,  to  imitate  the  sky,  where  the  commingling 
of  stars,  sunbeams,  and  clouds,  with  the  royal 
arms  must  have  suggested  the  idea  of  a  general 
eruption  in  the  firmament. 

Beside  the  tilts  and  tourneys,  and  other  enter 
tainments,  an  allegorical  device,  called  a  triumph, 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  199 

was  enacted  by  several  of  the  young  courtiers, 
among  whom  was  Philip  Sidney,  whose  presence 
seemed  necessary  to  give  the  finishing  touch  to 
every  festal  rite.  Let  us  fancy  the  long  galleries 
filled  with  lovely  women  and  gallant  cavaliers  in 
their  grandest  ruffs  and  most  elaborate  hose  and 
doublets,  while  bands  of  music  pour  sweet  har 
monies  upon  the  air.  At  one  end  of  the  tilting- 
ground  is  a  lofty  castle  or  fortress,  termed  the 
Castle  of  Perfect  Beauty,  and  in  it,  visible  to  all 
the  crowd  sits  the  Queen,  still  fair  and  handsome, 
and  smiling  blandly  on  the  gay  illusion.  Six 
trumpeters  enter  the  enchanted  circle,  and  an 
nounce  the  first  of  four  knights  who  propose  to 
attack  the  fortress,  and  obtain  possession  of  its 
prize.  The  Earl  of  Arundel,  in  gilt  armor  and 
on  a  richly  caparisoned  steed,  leads  the  van,  at 
tended  by  four  pages  and  twenty  squires,  all  of 
whom  are  draped  in  yellow  doublets,  crimson 
velvet  hose  trimmed  with  gold  lace,  and  crimson 
velvet  hats  with  gold  bands  and  yellow  feathers. 
Thirty  yeomen  follow,  dressed  in  the  same  colors, 
of  less  costly  material. 

Then  rides  in  Lord  Windsor,  also  in  gilt  armor ; 
his  four  pages  and  twenty-four  gentlemen  in  short 
cloaks  of  scarlet,  and  doublets  and  hose  of  tawny 
orange,  black  velvet  hats  with  silver  bands  and 
white  feathers,  silvered  rapiers  and  scabbards  of 


200         THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

black  velvet;  and  his  trumpeters  and  threescore 
yeoman  in  similar  array. 

*  "  Then  proceeded  Maister  Philip  Sidneie,  in 
verie  sumptuous  manner,  with  armor,  part  blew, 
and  the  rest  gilt  and  engraven,  with  foure  spare 
horsses,  having  caparisons  and  furniture  verie 
rich  and  costlie,  as  some  of  cloth  of  gold  im- 
brodered  with  pearle,  and  some  imbrodered  with 
gold  and  silver  feathers,  verie  richlie  and  cunning- 
lie  wrought ;  he  had  foure  pages  that  rode  on  his 
four  spare  horsses,  who  had  cassocke  coats  and 
Venetian  hose,  all  of  cloth  of  silver,  laied  with 
gold  lace,  and  hats  of  the  same  with  gold  bands 
and  white  feathers,  and  each  one  a  paire  of  white 
buskins.  Then  had  he  thirtie  gentlemen  and 
yeomen,  and  foure  trumpetters  who 'were  all  in 
cassock  coats,  and  Venetian  hose  of  yellow  velvet 
laied  with  silver  lace,  yellow  velvet  caps  with 
silver  bands  and  white  feathers,  and  everie  one  a 
paire  of  white  buskins ;  and  they  had  upon  their 
coats  a  scrowle  or  band  of  silver,  which  came 
scarf-wise  over  the  shoulder,  and  so  down  under 
the  arme,  with  this  posie  or  sentence  written  upon 
it,  both  before  and  behind,  'Sic  nos  non  nobis.'  "  f 

*  Hollinshed's  Chronicles. 

|  "  Thus  are  we,  but  not  for  ourselves  " — probably  intend 
ing  to  express  the  idea  that  he  jested  to  amuse  others,  rather 
than  himself. 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  201 

Sir  Fulke  Greville  brings  up  the  rear  in  equal 
splendor,  his  attendants  being  apparalled  in 
orange  and  gold. 

After  various  brilliant  evolutions,  and  a  num 
ber  of  long  harangues,  in  which  the  Castle  of 
Beauty  is  summoned  to  surrender,  and  of  course 
refuses,  a  grand  assault  is  made  upon  it  by 
means  of  scaling-ladders,  cannons  loaded  with 
sweet  powders  and  perfumes,  flowers,  love-let 
ters,  and  similar  deadly  weapons.  Several  other 
knights  come  to  aid  the  besiegers,  two  of  them 
representing  Adam  and  Eve  in  armor,  decorated 
with  painted  apples  and  figleaves,  and  helmets 
covered  with  long  hair.  Another,  with  dishev 
elled  locks  and  woful  gestures,  personates  De 
spair.  But  the  fortress  proves  invulnerable,  and  at 
length  each  assailant  presents  an  olive-branch  to 
the  Queen,  in  token  of  submission.  Her  Majesty 
graciously  thanks  the  combatants,  and  is  pleased 
with  the  gay  masquerade  that  testifies  to  the 
French  ambassadors  the  loyalty  and  admiration 
of  her  subjects. 

The  arrival  of  the  Duke  multiplied  these  nup 
tial  festivities,  in  which,  as  Motley  says,  "  noth 
ing  was  omitted  but  the  nuptials."  For  several 
months,  the  Queen  played  the  drama  of  caprice 
which  had  long  kept  her  subjects  and  her  suitor 
in  perpetual  agitation,  until  the  latter  hastily  took 


202  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

his  departure,  irritated  beyond  endurance  by  hei 
pitiful  vacillation,  and  tired  of  a  ten  years'  chase 
after  the  ignis  fatuus  of  a  crown.  The  States  of 
Belgium  had  given  him  a  limited  sovereignty, 
with  the  title  of  Duke  of  Brabant,  in  the  hope  of 
securing  for  themselves  religious  toleration  and 
defence  against  the  tyranny  of  Spain  ;  his  pro 
spective  alliance  with  Elizabeth,  seeming  to 
promise  the  united  protection  of  England  and 
France.  He  was  accompanied,  on  his  return 
thither,  by  a  brilliant  corUge  of  English  gentle 
men  of  high  degree,  sent  by  the  Queen  in  token 
of  her  good  will. 

The  Lords  Hunsdon,  Howard,  and  Leicester, 
Philip  Sidney,  and  a  hundred  or  two  besides, 
landed  at  Flushing  with  the  Duke  and  his  own 
splendid  retinue.  William  of  Orange,  the  ever- 
faithful  sentinel,  was  there  to  greet  him  with  a 
large  deputation  ;  and  amid  music,  artillery,  and 
acclamations,  they  were  escorted  to  an  elegant 
banquet,  which  was  furnished  with  the  same 
astonishing  prodigality  of  sugar  utensils  and 
ornaments  as  were  those  given  in  Venice  to 
Henry  III.  of  France.  After  a  week  of  gala 
days  and  nights,  they  were  all  conveyed  in  fifty- 
four  vessels  to  Antwerp,  and  made  an  imposing 
entree  into  that  opulent  capital.  The  military 
companies  in  their  bright  uniforms,  the  Han- 


SIR  PHILIP    SIDNEY.  203 

seatic  merchants  in  their  old  German  costume, 
the  city  functionaries  in  black  velvet  and  gold 
chains,  and  the  cavalcade  of  illustrious  men  from 
three  neighboring  countries,  marched  in  stately 
procession  through  triumphal  arches,  flashing 
torches,  and  bands  of  martial  music ;  and  for 
many  days  orations  were  delivered,  compliments 
exchanged,  and  allegories  acted,  until  everybody 
must  have  been  exhausted,  and  the  English  lords 
very  glad  to  set  sail  homeward. 

Through  all  these  glittering  ceremonials,  Sid 
ney  found  time  for  extensive  reading,  and  con 
stant  association  with  men  of  letters,  of  whom 
he  was  ever  the  liberal  patron.  He  accumulated 
a  large  and  choice  library,  employing  agents  to 
purchase  for  him  at  the  annual  fairs  in  Leipsic, 
Frankfort,  and  other  towns.  We  read  contin 
ually  of  books  that  were  dedicated  to  him  by 
the  most  distinguished  authors  of  England,  Ger 
many,  and  France.  Scipio  Gentilis,  a  professor 
of  law  in  Oxford,  and  celebrated  as  a  Latin  versi 
fier,  addressed  him  in  this  eulogistic  strain : — 

"  Others  admire  in  you,  Philip  Sidney,  the 
splendor  of  your  birth — your  genius  in  your 
childhood,  capable  of  all  philosophy — your  hon 
orable  embassy  undertaken  in  your  youth,  and 
the  experience  obtained  from  visiting  the  citie? 
and  viewing  the  manners  of  so  many  countries — 


204  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF 

the  exhibition  of  your  personal  valor  and  prowess 
in  the  public  spectacles  and  equestrian  exercises, 
in  your  manhood; — let  others  admire  all  these 
qualities.  I  not  only  admire,  but  I  love  and  vener 
ate  you,  because  you  regard  poetry  so  much  as 
to  excel  in  it ;  nor  will  I  omit  any  opportunity 
of  acknowledging  my  obligations  to  you,  as  far 
as  it  is  in  my  power." 

Banco,  a  learned  theologian,  inscribes  to  Sid 
ney  his  biography  of  the  distinguished  philoso 
pher  Ramus,  who,  as  heretofore  stated,  was  one 
of  the  victims  of  the  massacre  at  Paris.  "  With 
out  flattery,"  he  says,  "  I  pronounce  you  to  be  a 
perfect  image  and  resemblance  of  nobility.  For, 
not  to  mention  your  descent  from  the  family 
of  the  Earls  of  Warwick,  eminently  illustrious 
throughout  all  England,  your  virtue,  outshining 
the  splendor  of  an  high  lineage,  seems  to  me  a 
theme  of  just  encomium.  I  remember  well, 
when  I  first  saw  you,  when  I  first  contemplated 
with  wonder  your  uncommon  endowments  of 
mind  and  body ;  I  remember  well,  I  say,  the 
words  of  Gregory,  who  declared  the  Angli,  or 
English,  that  were  at  Rome,  to  be  really  angels." 
If  this  sounds  like  fulsome  panegyric,  we  must 
remember  that  it  was  a  hearty  and  honest  senti 
ment,  uttered  in  an  age  of  such  comparative 
simplicity,  that  language  was  then  used  to  ex 
press  thought,  and  not  to  conceal  it. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  205 

A  work  on  military  tactics  was  dedicated  to 
him,  because,  as  the  author  says,  he  "  found  none 
more  forward  to  further  and  favor  martial  knowl 
edge  ;  being  of  himself  most  ready  and  adven 
turous  in  all  exercises  of  war  and  chivalry." 

Richard  Hakluyt,  the  renowned  cosmographer, 
inscribed  his  first  collection  of  voyages  to  this 
"  most  generous  promoter  of  all  ingenious  and 
useful  knowledge."  Lipsius,  the  scholar  and 
critic,  in  a  similar  instance,  addressed  him  as 
46  the  bright  star  of  Britain,  on  whom  light  is 
copiously  diffused  by  Virtue,  by  the  Muses,  by 
the  Graces,  and  by  Fortune." 

Sidney  never  saw  the  noontide  glory  of  the 
Elizabethan  day  of  literature.  It  was  now  but 
in  the  purple  dawn,  to  which  his  own  taste  and 
talent  lent  many  rays  of  brightness.  He  was 
already  known  as  a  poet,  and  very  soon  he  wrote 
an  Essay,  called  the  "  Defence  of  Poesy,"  which 
is  believed  to  be  the  first  critical  work  of  merit  in 
the  English  language.  The  names  of  Shak- 
speare,  Ben  Johnson,  Raleigh,  Greene,  Drayton, 
Davies,  Chapman,  and  others,  were  yet  un 
known  ;  and,  with  the  exception  of  Sidney  and 
Spenser,  there  were  no  poetical  celebrities  whose 
effusions  have  any  interest  for  modern  readers. 

The  author  of  the  "  Faerie  Queen  "  was  born 
to  that  frequent  inheritance  of  genius — poverty; 


206  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

but  the  friendship  which  he  formed  at  Oxford 
with  Sidney  and  Raleigh,  and  the  patronage  of 
the  Earl  of  Leicester,  had  secured  his  present 
exemption  from  those  sordid  cares  that  so  vex 
the  poet's  soul.  The  first  was  a  most  kind  and 
generous  friend ;  he  invited  him  to  Penshurst, 
where  they  spent  several  weeks  together,  and 
induced  him  to  transfer  his  attention  from  pas 
toral  to  heroic  verse.  Mankind  are  probably 
indebted  to  this  piece  of  advice  for  that  grand 
and  vivid  epic  which  has  given  delight  to  them, 
and  renown  to  its  creator.  The  early  portions 
of  the  "  Faerie  Queen  "  were  submitted  to  the 
criticism  of  Sir  Philip,  and  there  is  a  story,  (not, 
however,  very  reliable,)  that  when  he  heard  the 
description  of  Despair,  in  the  ninth  canto  of 
the  first  book,  he  was  so  transported  with  admi 
ration,  as  to  direct  his  steward  to  present  the 
author  with  fifty  pounds ;  when  the  second 
stanza  was  read,  he  ordered  the  sum  to  be 
doubled ;  at  the  third,  he  called  for  two  hundred 
pounds,  and  commanded  its  immediate  payment 
lest  he  should  be  induced  to  give  away  all  hr 
possessed. 

Gabriel  Harvey  was  another  learned  friend  of 
Sidney,  but  rather  pretentious  and  pedantic,  and 
only  remembered  for  his  attempts  to  introduce 
the  Latin  hexameter  into  English  verse.  All  his 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  207 

contemporaries  were  somewhat  infected  with  his 
example.  Sidney  followed  it,  in  some  of  the  ec 
logues  of  the  Arcadia,  and  even  Spenser  himself, 
notwithstanding  his  admission  that  the  English 
hexameter  has  much  the  effect  of  "  a  lame  gos 
ling  that  draweth  one  leg  after  her,  or  of  a  lame 
dog  that  holdeth  one  leg  up." 

Sir  Fnlke  Greville,  afterward  Lord  Brooke, 
was  the  relative  and  the  most  intimate  friend 
of  Sidney;  they  were  of  the  same  age,  and 
both  allied 

"  In  brave  pursuit  of  chivalrous  emprise." 

A  terrace  near  the  seat  of  the  former  in  War 
wickshire,  is  still  pointed  out  as  the  spot  where 
they  walked  together  on  summer  mornings,  and 
held  the  genial  converse  of  kindred  souls.  The 
poems  of  Greville,  though  quite  celebrated  in  their 
day,  are  now  known  only  to  the  curious  searchers 
into  literature,  their  harsh  and  pedantic  style  be 
ing  a  cumbrous  vehicle  for  lofty  sentiment  and 
ingenious  imagery.  They  consist  of  two  trage 
dies,  and  a  hundred  love  sonnets,  in  one  of  which 
he  addresses  his  mistress  as  "  Fair  Dog ! "  He 
wrote  a  memoir  of  his  early  friend,  and,  in  an 
inscription  which  he  composed  for  his  own  mon 
ument,  he  expressed  his  love  and  admiration  in 
the  significant  climax, 


208  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

FULKE  GREVILLE,  SERVANT  TO  QUEEN  ELIZ 
ABETH,  COUNSELLOR  TO  KING  JAMES,  AND  FRIEND 
TO  SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY." 

Even  the  most  unpretending  sketch  of  Sir 
Philip  Sidney  would  be  incomplete  without  some 
notice  of  his  "  Defence  of  Poesy,"  (or  as  it  was 
termed  by  him,  "  Apologie  for  Poesie,")  a  work 
which  is  justly  celebrated  as  the  most  finished 
prose  production  of  that  era,  and  as  the  basis  of 
numberless  dissertations  that  have  since  appeared 
on  the  same  subject.  If  it  seem  remarkable  that 
the  "  divine  art "  should  require  defence,  it  must 
be  remembered  that  no  master  hand  had  touched 
the  lyre  in  England,  since  the  days  of  Chaucer 
and  Gower,  who  lived  when  Petrarch  and  Dante 
woke  Italy  with  its  echoes.  The  few  subsequent 
poets,  though  not  destitute  of  merit,  had  done 
nothing  to  sustain  its  dignity  or  elevate  its  tone. 
In  an  age  that  with  the  chivalric  spirit  of  the 
past,  singularly  blended  great  intellectual  activ 
ity,  laborious  research,  and  a  freedom  of  speech 
which  has  been  almost  refined  away  in  our 
more  fastidious  civilization,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  satirists  were  numerous,  keen,  and  crit 
ical.  The  Puritans,  too,  with  all  the  zeal  of  a 
new-born  sect,  anathematized  poetry  in  merciless 
measure.  A  creature  born  in  sin  and  meriting 
perdition,  they  argued,  should  devote  his  hours 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  209 

to  penance  and  prayer,  not  to  syren  melodies  and 
carnal  songs  of  pleasure.  The  pilgrim  through 
a  vale  of  tears,  had  no  right  to  prate  of  the 
allurements  of  beauty,  or  dream  amid  the  chi 
meras  of  an  unholy  brain.  In  the  judgment  of 
these  stern  old  reformers,  as  sorcery  bewitched  the 
people,  so  poetry  bewitched  language.  Scorning, 
as  they  did,  both  the  authority  and  the  vices  of 
aristocracy,  they  equally  scorned  its  refinements 
and  its  culture.  Thus  the  glowing  words  of 
passion  and  of  love,  stirred  into  rhyme  and 
rhythm  by  the  poet's  wand,  seemed  to  them 
allied  to  the  sensual  more  than  to  the  intellec 
tual,  and  to  be  figments  of  heathen  philosophy, 
rather  than  emanations  of  Christian  intelli 
gence. 

It  was  to  combat  both  the  carping  critics  and 
the  sturdy  reformers,  that  this  young  champion 
sallied  forth,  armed  with  the  simple  but  effective 
weapons  of  reason  and  of  truth.  Of  his  success 
we  leave  our  readers  to  judge. 

He  begins  by  the  announcement  that  having 
"  slipped  into  the  title  of  a  poet,"  he  desires  to 
say  something  in  defence  of  "  that  art  which,  from 
almost  the  highest  estimation  of  learning,  is 
fallen  to  be  the  laughing-stock  of  children."  He 
alludes  to  its  antiquity,  and  argues  that  in  all 

14 


210  THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES    OP 

countries  it  "  opens  the  portals  to  all  other  knowl 
edge."  Musaeus,  Homer,  and  Hesiod  were  the 
fathers  of  Grecian  learning ;  the  fables  of  Am- 
phion  and  Orpheus  were  tributes  to  musical  verse ; 
Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Boccaccio  made  Italy  the 
"  treasure-house  of  science ; "  Chaucer  and  Gower 
were  the  morning  stars  of  England's  day  of  song. 
The  philosophers  of  Greece  garlanded  their  phi 
losophy  with  the  flowers  of  poesy,  and  Herodotus 
added  the  charm  of  poetic  fiction  to  win  atten 
tion  to  his  facts.  In  Wales,  poetry  had  outdone 
all  art  and  science  ;  "  in  Ireland,  where  learning 
goes  very  bare,  yet  are  their  poets  held  in  devout 
reverence.  Even  among  the  most  barbarous  and 
simple  Indians,  where  no  writing  is,  yet  have 
they  their  poets,  who  sing  of  their  ancestors' 
deeds,  and  praises  of  their  gods."  He  speaks  of 
the  high  esteem  in  which  the  poet  was  held  in 
Rome,  being  called  Vates,  a  diviner  or  prophet ; 
and  alludes  to  the  "  heavenly  poesie "  of  the 
Hebrew  Psalmist.  He  proceeds  to  contrast  the 
art  with  other  arts  and  sciences : — 

"  There  is  no  art  delivered  unto  mankind,  that 
hath  not  the  works  of  Nature  for  its  principal 
object,  without  which  they  could  not  consist,  and 
on  which  they  so  depend,  as  they  become  Actors 
and  Players,  as  it  were,  of  what  Nature  will  have 
set  forth.  So  doth  the  Astronomer  look  upon 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  211 

the  stars,  and  that  he  hath  set  down  what  order 
Nature  hath  taken  therein.  So  doth  the  Arith 
metician  and  Geometrician  in  their  divers  sorts 
of  quantities.  So  doth  the  Musician,  in  tunes, 
tell  you  which  by  Nature  agree,  which  not.  The 
natural  Philosopher  thereon  hath  his  name,  and 
the  moral  Philosopher  standeth  upon  the  natural 
virtues,  vices,  or  passions  of  man ;  and  follow 
nature,  saith  he,  therein,  and  thou  shalt  not  err. 
The  Lawyer  saith  what  men  have  determined. 
The  Historian,  what  men  have  done.  The 
Grammarian  speaketh  only  of  the  rules  of 
speech;  and  the  Rhetorician  and  Logician,  con 
sidering  what  in  nature  will  soonest  prove  and 
persuade,  thereon  give  artificial  rules,  which  still 
are  compassed  within  the  circle  of  a  question, 
according  to  the  proposed  matter.  The  Physi 
cian  weigheth  the  nature  of  man's  body,  and  the 
nature  of  things  helpful  or  hurtful  unto  it.  And 
the  Metaphysicke,  though  it  be  in  the  second 
and  abstract  motions,  and  therefore  be  accounted 
supernatural,  yet  doth  he  indeed  build  upon  the 
depth  of  Nature." 

He  follows  these  accurate  distinctions  of  the 
material  world  with  an  enthusiastic  picture  of  the 
ideal  realm  whose  golden  gates  the  poet  only 
may  unbar. 

"  Only  the  Poet,  disdaining  to  be  tied  to  any 


212  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

such  subjection,  lifted  up  with  the  vigor  of  his 
own  invention,  doth  grow  in  effect  into  another 
nature  ;  in  making  things  either  better  than  na 
ture  bringeth  forth,  or  quite  a  new  form,  of  such 
as  never  were  nature  ;  as  the  Heroes,  Demi-gods, 
Cyclops,  Chimeras,  Furies,  and  the  like ;  so  as 
he  goeth  hand  in  hand  with  nature,  not  inclosed 
within  the  narrow  warrant  of  her  gifts,  but  freely 
ranging  within  the  zodiac  of  his  own  wit.  Na 
ture  never  set  forth  the  earth  in  so  rich  tapestry, 
as  divers  Poets  have  done,  neither  with  so  pleas 
ant  rivers,  fruitful  trees,  sweet-smelling  flowers, 
nor  whatsoever  else  may  make  the  too  much 
loved  earth  more  lovely ;  her  world  is  brazen,  the 
Poets  only  deliver  a  golden.''' 

He  then  enumerates  with  great  clearness  the 
various  kinds  of  poets,  the  religious,  the  philo 
sophical,  and  those  that  "justly  may  be  called 
Vates,  who  range  only  into  the  divine  considera 
tion,  and  what  may  be,  and  should  be."  "  It  is 
not  rhyming  and  versing,"  he  adds,  "  that  make 
a  Poet,  (no  more  than  a  long  gown  maketh  an 
advocate,  who,  though  he  pleaded  in  armor 
should  be  an  advocate  and  no  soldier,)  but  is 
that  joining  notable  images  of  virtues,  vices,  or 
what  else,  with  that  delightful  teaching,  which 
must  be  the  right  describing  note  to  know  a 
Poet  by." 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  213 

"  The  end  of  all   earthly  learning  being 

virtuous  action,  those  skills  that  most  serve  to 
bring  forth  that,  have  a  most  just  title  to  be 
princes  over  the  rest;  wherein  we  easily  can 
show,  the  Poet  is  worthy  to  have  it  before  any 
other  competitors.  Among  whom  principally  to 
challenge,  step  forth  the  Moral  Philosophers ; 
whom  methinks  I  see  coming  towards  me  with 
a  sullen  gravity,  (as  they  could  not  abide  vice 
by  daylight,)  rudely  clothed,  for  to  witness  out 
wardly  their  contempt  of  outward  things,  with 
books  in  their  hands  against  glory,  whereto  they 
set  their  name ;  sophistically  speaking  against 
subtlety,  and  angry  with  any  man  in  whom  they 
see  the  foul  fault  of  anger.  These  men,  casting 
largess  as  they  go  of  definitions,  divisions,  and 
distinctions,  with  a  scornful  interrogative  do 
soberly  ask,  whether  it  be  possible  to  find  any 
path  so  ready  to  lead  a  man  to  virtue  as  that 
which  teacheth  what  virtue  is." "  The  His 
torian  scarcely  gives  leisure  to  the  Moralist  to 
say  so  much,  but  that  he,  loaden  with  old  mouse- 
eaten  records,  authorizing  himself  for  the  most 
part  upon  other  histories,  whose  greatest  author 
ities  are  built  upon  the  notable  foundation  of 
Hear-say,  having  much  ado  to  accord  differing 
writers,  and  to  pick  truth  out  of  partiality  ;  better 
acquainted  with  a  thousand  years  ago  than  with 


214  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

the  present  age,  and  yet  better  knowing  how  this 
world  goes,  than  how  his  own  wit  runs ;  curious 
for  antiquities,  and  inquisitive  of  novelties,  a 
wonder  to  young  folks,  and  a  tyrant  in  table- 
talk; — denieth,  in  a  great  chafe,  that  any  man 
for  teaching  of  virtue  is  comparable  with  him." 

"  The  Philosopher,  setting  down  with  thorny 

arguments  the  bare  rule,  is  so  hard  of  utterance, 
and  so  misty  to  be  conceived,  that  one  who  hath 
no  other  guide  but  him,  shall  wade  in  him  till  he 
be  old,  before  he  shall  find  sufficient  cause  to  be 
honest.  For  his  knowledge  standeth  so  upon  the 
abstract  and  general,  that  happy  is  that  man  who 
may  understand  him,  and  more  happy  that  can 
apply  what  he  doth  understand.  On  the  other 
side,  the  Historian,  wanting  the  precept,  is  so 
tied,  not  to  what  should  be,  but  to  what  is,  to 
the  particular  truth  of  things,  and  not  to  the 
general  reason  of  things,  that  his  example 
draweth  no  necessary  consequence,  and  there 
fore  a  less  fruitful  doctrine.  Now  doth  the 
peerless  Poet  perform  both ;  for  whatsoever 
the  Philosopher  saith  should  be  done,  he  gives 
a  perfect  picture  of  it  by  some  one,  by  whom 
he  presupposeth  it  was  done,  so  as  he  couples 
the  general  notion  with  the  particular  ex 
ample." 

"  Tully  taketh  much   pains,  and  many  times 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  215 

not  without  poetical  helps,  to  make  us  know  the 
force  love  of  our  country  hath  in  us.  Let  us 
but  hear  old  Anchises  speaking  in  the  midst  of 
Troy's  flames,  or  see  Ulysses  in  the  fulness  of 
ah1  Calypso's  delights,  bewail  his  absence  from 
barren  and  beggarly  Ithaca.  Anger,  the  Stoics 
said,  was  a  short  madness  ;  let  but  Sophocles 
bring  you  Ajax  on  a  stage,  killing  or  whipping 
sheep  and  oxen,  thinking  them  the  army  of 
Greeks,  with  their  chieftains  Agamemnon  and 
Menelaus;  and  tell  me  if  you  have  not  a  more 
familiar  insight  into  anger,  than  finding  in  the 
schoolmen  its  genus  and  difference." 

"  Now  therein  of  all  sciences  is  our  Poet  the 
Monarch.  For  he  doth  not  only  shew  the  way, 
but  giveth  so  sweet  a  prospect,  as  will  entice  any 
man  to  enter  into  it;  Nay,  he  doth  as  if  your 
journey  should  He  through  a  fair  vineyard,  at  the 
very  first  give  you  a  cluster  of  grapes,  that  full 
of  that  taste,  you  may  long  to  pass  further.  He 
beginneth  not  with  obscure  definitions,  which 
must  blur  the  margin  with  interpretations,  and 
load  the  memory  with  doubtfulness  ;  but  he 
cometh  to  you  with  words  set  in  delightful  pro 
portion,  either  accompanied  with,  or  prepared 
for,  the  well-enchanting  skill  of  music,  and  with 
a  tale  forsooth  he  cometh  unto  you,  with  a  tale 
which  holdeth  children  from  play,  and  old  men 


216  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

from  the  chimney  corner ;  *  and  pretending  no 
more,  doth  intend  the  winning  of  the  mind  from 
wickedness  to  virtue  ;  even  as  the  child  is  often 
brought  to  take  most  wholesome  things  by  hid 
ing  them  in  such  other  as  have  a  pleasant  taste." 

"  By  these  examples  and  reasons,  I  think  it 
may  be  manifest,  that  the  Poet,  with  that  same 
hand  of  delight,  doth  draw  the  mind  more  effec 
tually  than  any  other  Art  doth.  And  so  a  con 
clusion  not  unfitly  ensues ;  that  as  virtue  is  the 
most  excellent  resting-place  for  all  worldly  learn 
ing  to  make  its  end  of,  so  Poetry  being  the  most 
familiar  to  teach  it,  and  most  princely  to  move 
towards  it,  in  the  most  excellent  work,  is  the 
most  excellent  workman." 

Here  he  presents  at  length  the  relative  value 
and  beauty  of  the  various  forms  of  poetry  ; — the 
pastoral,  the  elegiac,  the  comic,  the  tragic,  the 
lyric, — and  enthusiastically  dilates  upon  the  union 
of  metre  with  music  : — 

"  I  never  heard  the  old  song  of  Percie  and 
Douglas,  that  I  found  not  my  heart  moved  more 
than  with  a  trumpet ;  and  yet  it  is  sung  by  some 
blind  crowder,  with  no  rougher  voice,  than  rude 

*  This  is  supposed  to  be  the  origin  of  Shakspeare's — 
"  That  elder  ears  played  truant  at  his  tale, 
And  younger  hearings  were  quite  ravished, — 
So  sweet  and  voluble  was  his  discourse,"  &c. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  217 

style ;  which  being  so  evil  apparelled  in  the  dust 
and  cobweb  of  that  uncivil  age,  what  would  it 
work,  trimmed  in  the  gorgeous  eloquence  of 
Pindar  ?  In  Hungary,  I  have  seen  in  the  manner 
of  all  feasts,  and  other  such  like  meetings,  to 
have  songs  of  their  ancestors'  valor,  which  that 
soldier-like  nation  think  one  of  the  chiefest  kin- 
dlers  of  courage.  The  incomparable  Lacedaemo 
nians  did  not  only  carry  that  kind  of  Music  ever 
with  them  to  the  field  ;  but  even  at  home,  as 
such  songs  were  made,  so  were  they  all  content 
to  be  singers  of  them ;  when  the  lusty  men  were 
to  tell  what  they  did,  the  old  men,  what  they 
have  done,  the  young  men,  what  they  would 
do." 

"  Since  then,"  he  sums  up  the  argument, 
"  Poetry  is  of  all  human  learning  the  most  an 
cient,  and  of  most  fatherly  antiquity ; — since  it 
is  so  universal  that  no  learned  nation  doth  de 
spise  it,  nor  barbarous  nation  is  without  it ;  since 
both  Roman  and  Greek  gave  such  divine  names 
unto  it,  the  one  of  prophesying,  the  other  of 
making;  and  that  indeed  the  name  of  making 
is  fit  for  him,  considering  that  where  all  other 
Arts  retain  themselves  within  their  subject,  and 
receive,  as  it  were,  their  being  from  it,  the 
Poet  only  bringeth  his  own  stuff,  and  doth  not 
learn  a  Conceit  out  of  a  matter,  but  maketh 


218  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

matter  for  a  Conceit.  Since  neither  his  descrip 
tion  nor  end  containeth  any  evil,  the  thing  de 
scribed  cannot  be  evil,  since  his  effects  be  so 
good  as  to  teach  goodness,  and  delight  the 
learners  of  it ;  since  therefore,  (namely,  in  moral 
doctrine,  the  chief  of  all  knowledges,)  he  doth 
not  only  far  surpass  the  Historian,  but  for  in 
structing  is  wellnigh  comparable  to  the  Philos 
opher  ;  since  the  holy  Scripture  hath  whole  parts 
in  it  poetical,  and  that  even  our  Saviour  Christ 
vouchsafed  to  use  the  flowers  of  it;  since  all  his 
kindnesses  are  not  only  in  their  united  forms,  but 
in  their  several  directions  fully  commendable,  I 
think,  (and  think  I  think  rightly,)  the  Laurel 
Crown  appointed  for  triumphant  Captains,  doth 
worthily,  of  all  other  learnings,  honor  the  Poet's 
triumph." 

He  proceeds  to  canvass  the  objections  against 
poetry;  just  the  objections  of  the  stoics  of  old 
and  the  utilitarians  of  to-day ;  of  men  who  would 
measure  the  soul  by  the  limited  compass  of  rea 
son,  and  reduce  life  to  a  practical  demonstration  ; 
who  would  stifle  the  yearnings  of  love,  strangle 
the  generous  impulse,  and  dissipate  the  heaven- 
born  phantoms  of  beauty  and  of  taste.  We  will 
not  follow  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  argument,  because, 
as  we  have  before  stated,  it  has  had  so  many  ad 
mirers,  and  so  many  plagiarists,  that  under  other 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  219 

guises  its  face  is  universally  familiar.  It  is  enough 
to  say  that  its  accuracy  of  reasoning  and  sus 
tained  dignity  of  thought  are  richly  adorned  with 
the  flowers  of  fancy,  and  with  classical  illustra 
tion,  while,  in  the  enthusiasm  which  pervades  the 
whole  "  Defence,"  we  see  that  he  wrote  in  obedi 
ence  to  what  he  tells  us  was  the  mandate  of  his 
Muse,  "  Look  in  thy  heart,  and  write." 

He  especially  regrets  that  poetry  has  fallen 
from  its  high  esteem  in  England;  and  gives,  as 
the  cause,  that  "  base  men  with  servile  wits  un 
dertake  it,  who  think  it  enough  if  they  be  re 
warded  of  the  printer;  and  so,  as  Epaminondas  is 
said  with  the  honor  of  his  virtue  to  have  made 
an  office  by  his  exercising  it,  which  before  was 
contemptible,  to  become  highly  respected ;  so 
these  men  no  more  but  setting  their  names  to  it, 
by  their  own  disgracefulness,  disgrace  the  most 
graceful  Poesie." — "As  the  fertilest  ground  must 
be  manured,"  he  says  again,  "  so  must  the  highest 
plying  wit  have  a  Daedalus  to  guide  him." 

He  winds  up  this  "  hymn  of  intellectual  beauty," 
as  it  has  been  well  pronounced,  by  the  following 
eloquent  peroration : — 

"  So  that  since  the  ever  praiseworthy  Poesie  is 
full  of  virtue,  breeding  delightfulness,  and  void 
of  no  gift  that  ought  to  be  in  the  noble  name  of 
learning,  since  the  blames  laid  against  it  are 


220  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

either  false  or  feeble,  since  the  cause  why  it  is  not 
esteemed  in  England  is  the  fault  of  Poet  apes, 
not  Poets ;  since  lastly  our  tongue  is  most  fit  to 
honor  Poesie,  and  to  be  honored  by  Poesie,  I 
conjure  you  all  that  have  had  the  ill  luck  to  read 
this  ink-wasting  toy  of  mine,  even  in  the  name 
of  the  nine  Muses,  no  more  to  scorn  the  sacred 
mysteries  of  Poesie ;  no  more  to  laugh  at  the 
name  of  Poets,  as  though  they  were  next  inheritor 
to  fools ;  no  more  to  jest  at  the  reverent  title  of  a 
rhymer,  but  to  believe  with  Aristotle  that  they 
were  the  ancient  treasurers  of  the  Grecian  divini 
ty  ;  to  believe  with  Bembus  that  they  were  first 
bringers  in  of  all  civility ;  to  believe  with  Scali- 
ger  that  not  philosopher's  precepts  can  sooner 
make  you  an  honest  man,  than  the  reading  of 
Virgil;  to  believe  with  Clauserus,  the  translator 
of  Cornutus.  that  it  pleased  the  heavenly  deity  by 
Homer  and  Hesiod,  under  the  veil  of  fables  to 
give  us  all  knowledge,  Logic,  Rhetoric,  Philoso 
phy,  natural  and  moral,  and  Quid  non  ?  To  be 
lieve  with  me  that  there  are  many  mysteries 
contained  in  Poetry,  which  of  purpose  were 
written  darkly,  lest  by  profane  wits  it  should  be 
abused ;  to  believe  with  Landin  that  they  are  so 
beloved  of  the  gods,  that  whatsoever  they  write, 
proceeds  out  of  a  divine  fury.  Lastly,  to  believe 
themselves  when  they  tell  you  they  will  make 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  221 

you  immortal  by  their  verse.  Thus  doing,  your 
names  shall  flourish  in  the  printer's  shops ;  thus 
doing,  you  shall  be  of  kin  to  many  a  poetical 
preface ;  thus  doing,  you  shall  be  most  fair,  most 
rich,  most  wise,  most  all ;  you  shall  dwell  upon 
superlatives  ;  thus  doing,  though  you  be  Libertine 
patre  natus,  you  shall  suddenly  grow  Herculea 
proles,  si  quid  me  a  carmina  possunt.  Thus 
doing,  your  soul  shall  be  placed  with  Dante's 
Beatrix,  or  Virgil's  Anchises.  But  if  (fie  of  such 
a  But)  you  be  born  so  near  the  dull-making 
cataract  of  Nilus,  that  you  cannot  hear  the 
planet-like  music  of  Poetry ;  if  you  have  so 
earth-creeping  a  mind,  that  it  cannot  lift  itself  up 
to  look  to  the  skies  of  Poetry ;  then,  though  I 
will  not  wish  unto  you  the  asses'  ears  of  Midas, 
nor  to  be  driven  by  a  Poet's  verses  as  Bubonax 
was  'to  hang  himself,  nor  to  be  rhymed  to  death, 
as  is  said  to  be  done  in  Ireland,  yet  thus  much 
curse  I  must  send  you  in  the  behalf  of  all  Poets, 
that  while  you  live  you  live  in  love,  and  never 
get  favor,  for  lacking  skill  of  a  sonnet ;  and  when 
you  die,  your  memory  die  from  the  earth  for  want 
of  an  epitaph." 

"  In  this  luminous  criticism  and  effusion  of 
poetic  feeling,"  remarks  D'Israeli,  "  Sidney  has 
introduced  the  principal  precepts  of  Aristotle, 
touched  by  the  fire  and  sentiment  of  Longinus  ; 


222          THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

and  for  the  first  time  in  English  literature,  has 
exhibited  the  beatitude  of  criticism  in  a  poet- 
critic."  * 

In  concert  with  his  sister,  Sir  Philip  wrote  a 
Paraphrase  of  the  Psalms  of  David.  The  last 
work  that  occupied  his  pen  was  a  translation  of 
an  Essay  by  Du  Plessis  on  the  Truth  of  Chris 
tianity.  It  was  incomplete  at  the  time  of  his 
death. 

In  the  year  1581,  the  Earl  of  Leicester  made 
himself  very  obnoxious  to  the  Papists  by  his  ac 
tive  measures  in  the  discovery  and  suppression  of 
several  conspiracies  projected  by  them  against  the 
Queen.  His  violent  denunciations  were  responded 
to  by  an  invective  from  a  Jesuit,  named  Green, 
consisting  of  a  circumstantial  detail  of  all  the 
crimes  which  had  ever  been  laid  to  his  charge, 
intermingled  with  political  reflections  upon  the 
connection  between  his  iniquities  and  the  Popish 
dissatisfaction  with  the  government.  This  pub 
lication  was  circulated  throughout  Europe  and 
read  in  England  with  the  greatest  avidity  ;  the 
efforts  made  by  the  Queen  for  the  suppression  of 
statements  so  prejudicial  to  her  favorite,  only  in 
creasing  its  notoriety. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney,  with  all  the  pride  of  affec 
tion  and  of  zeal  for  the  family  honour,  attempted 
*  Amenities  of  Literature,  vol.  ii. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY. 


223 


to  refute  these  charges  in  a  letter,  which,  though 
ingenious,  was  by  no  means  conclusive  in  his 
uncle's  favor,  and  was  marked  rather  by  warmth 
than  by  judgment.  He  probably  failed  to  satisfy 
himself,  as  his  work  was  unpublished  until  its 
appearance  many  years  after  in  the  Sidney 
Papers.* 

*  Lodge's  Illustrious  Personages. 


224  THE   LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 


CHAPTER  IX. 

§N  presenting  to  our  readers  a  few  selections 
from  the  sonnets  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  it  is 
needless  to   suggest  that  they  must  not  be 
»/ 

judged  by  the  standard  of  modern  cultivation. 
His  talents  and  his  virtues  would  have  shown 
brightly  even  in  this  resplendent  century ;  for  such 
talents  are  always  rare,  and  such  virtues  are  of 
all  time :  but  their  manifestation  must  be  viewed 
through  the  focal  distance  of  three  hundred  years, 
and  amid  the  crude  taste  and  quaint  accompani 
ments  which  we  have  endeavored  to  portray. 
Therefore  we  bespeak  from  those  who  for  Sid 
ney's  sake  have  followed  us  thus  far,  and  who 
like  Bacon  are  "  glad  to  light "  their  "  torch  at 
any  man's  candle,"  a  just  appreciation  of  the 
dainty  hyperboles,  the  feeling  and  the  pathos  that 
sparkle  like  crystals  through  the  rough  metre  and 
obsolete  iteration.  We  have  hitherto  gathered 
the  scattered  fragments  of  Sir  Philip's  outer  and 
worldly  life.  We  have  aimed  to  sketch  him  as  a 
dutiful  son,  a  loving  brother,  a  true  friend  ;  as  a 


SIK  PHILIP  SIDNEY. 


225 


patriot,  a  scholar,  and  an  accomplished  cavalier. 
We  have  shown  the  dazzling  versatility  of  the 
genius  with  which  courts  were  delighted,  and  fair 
women  charmed ;  which  statesmen  applauded, 
and  critics  could  not  condemn. 

"  Beloved  over  all, 

In  whom  it  seems  that  gentleness  of  spright 
And  manners  mild  were  planted  natural ; 
To  which  he,  adding  comely  guise  withal, 
And  gracious  speech,  did  steal  men's  hearts  away."  * 

But  we  have  not  unveiled  the  golden  affections 
that  were  enshrined  far  beneath  the  surface,  sacred 
from  the  storms,  unmoved  by  the  tides  of  material 
elements.  Every  life  has  its  hidden  romance, 
every  soul  worships,  ofttimes  unconsciously,  its 
shadowy  ideal  of  human  loveliness.  The  romance 
of  Sidney's  heart  is  revealed  in  the  sonnets,  which, 
under  the  nom  de  plume  of  "Astrophel,"  he  ad 
dressed  to  "  Stella."  Her  real  name  was  Penelope 
Devereux ;  she  was  the  daughter  of  Walter, 
Earl  of  Devereux,  and  the  sister  of  that  Earl  of 
Essex,  to  whom  both  the  love  and  the  anger  of 
the  Queen  seemed  equally  fatal. 

Sidney  had  known  this  lady  from  her  childhood, 
and  soon  after  his  return  from  his  travels,  a  union 
was  proposed  between  them,  and  some  of  their 

*  Faerie  Queen. 
15 


226  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

friends  were  very  anxious  for  its  accomplishment. 
Sir  Edward  Waterhouse  wrote  to  Sir  Henry 
Sidney  :  "All  the  lords  that  wish  well  to  the  chil 
dren  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  I  suppose  all  the 
best  sorte  of  the  English  lords  besides,  doe  expect 
what  will  become  of  the  treaty  between  Mr. 
Phillip  and  my  Lady  Penelope.  Truly,  I  must 
say,  as  I  have  said  to  my  Lord  of  Leicester  and 
Mr.  Phillip,  the  breaking  off  from  this  match,  if 
the  default  be  on  your  parts,  will  turn  to  more 
dishonor  than  can  be  repaired  with  any  other 
marriage  in  England."  * 

The  Egeria  of  his  youth,  whom  he  made 

"  Famous  by  his  pen, 
And  glorious  by  his  sword," 

was  a  leading  star  in  the  world  of  rank  and  fash 
ion,  and  is  described  as  a  woman  of  almost  fault 
less  beauty,  of  graceful,  yet  commanding  figure, 
light  brown  hair,  a  clear,  vivid  complexion,  and 
lustrous,  dark  eyes.  He  alludes  to  those  beguil 
ing  eyes  in  describing  a  tilting  match,  in  which  he 
attributes  his  success  to  their  encouraging  glances  : 

"  Having  this  day  my  horse,  my  hand,  my  lance 
Guided  so  well,  that  I  obtained  the  prize, 
Both  by  the  judgment  of  the  English  eyes, 
And  of  some  sent  from  that  sweet  enemy,  France  ; 

*  Collin's  Sidney  Papers. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  227 

Horsemen  my  skill  in  horsemanship  advance ; 
Town-folks,  my  strength ;  a  daintier  Judge  applies 
His  praise  to  sleight,  which  from  good  use  doth  use  ; 
Some  lucky  wits  impute  it  but  a  chance ; 

Others,  because  of  both  sides  I  doe  take 
My  blood  from  them  who  did  excel  in  this, 
Think  nature  me  a  man  of  arms  did  make. 

How  far  they  shot  awry  !  the  true  cause  is 
STELLA  looked  on,  and  from  her  heavenly  face 
Sent  forth  the  beams,  which  made  so  fair  my  race." 

He  often  alludes  to  the  expression  of  modesty 
and  delicate  reserve,  which  lent  to  those  sweet 
eyes  an  added  fascination  : — 

"  O  eyes  which  doe  the  spheares  of  beauty  move, 
Whose  beames  be  joyes,  whose  joyes  all  vertues  be  ; 
Who,  while  they  make  Love  conquer,  conquer  Love, 
The  schools  where  Venus  might  learn  chastity."     • 

And  again : — 

"  Soules  joy,  bend  not  those  morning  starres  from  me, 
Where  vertue  is  made  strong  by  beautie's  might, 
Where  love  is  chastnesse,  paine  dothe  learne  delight, 
And  humbleness  growes  one  with  Majestie. 

Whatever  may  ensue,  O  let  mee  be 
Copartner  of  the  riches  of  that  sight ; 
Let  not  mine  eyes  be  driven  from  that  light ; 
O  looke  !  O  shine  !  O  let  me  die  and  see  1 " 


228  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

The  incense  of  his  homage  is  offered  less  to 
her  surpassing  loveliness  of  person,  than  to  the 
moral  purity  which  it  enshrined. 

"  Who  will  in  fairest  book  of  nature  know 
How  vertue  may  best  lodged  in  beautie  be, 
Let  him  but  learne  of  Love  to  read  in  thee, 
STELLA,  those  faire  lines,  which  true  goodness  show. 

There  shall  we  find  all  vices  overthrow, 
Not  by  rude  force,  but  sweetest  soveraigntie 
Of  reason,  from  whose  light  those  night-birds  flye ; 
That  inward  sunne  in  thine  eyes  shineth  so. 

And  not  content  to  be  Perfection's  heire 
Thyselfe,  dost  strive  all  mindes  that  way  to  move, 
Who  rnarke  in  thee  what  is  in  thee  most  faire. 
So  while  thy  beauty  drawes  the  heart  to  love, 
As  fast  thy  vertue  bends  that  love  to  good." 

Every  one  remembers  Charles  Lamb's  beauti 
ful  Essay  upon  Sidney's  sonnets,  in  which  he 
says :  "  We  must  be  lovers, — or  at  least  the  cooling 
touch  of  time,  the  circum  prcecordia  frigus,  must 
not  have  so  damped  our  faculties  as  to  take  away 
our  recollection  that  we  were  once  so, — before  we 
can  duly  appreciate  the  glorious  vanities  and 
graceful  hyperboles  of  the  passion."  Here  again 
our  poet's  numbers  breathe  the  romance  of  true 
devotion,  tinctured,  perhaps,  with  the  melancholy 
always  attendant  on  acute  feeling : — 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  229 

"  STELLA,  think  not  that  I  by  verse  seek  fame, 
Who  seek,  who  hope,  who  love,  who  live  but  thee  ; 
Thine  eyes  my  pride,  thy  lips  mine  history ! 
If  thou  praise  not,  all  other  praise  is  shame 

Nor  so  ambitious  am  I,  as  to  frame 
A  nest  for  my  young  praise  in  Lawrell-tree ; 
In  truth  I  sweare,  I  wish  not  there  should  be 
Grav'd  in  mine  epitaph  a  Poet's  name. 

Ne  if  I  would,  I  could  just  title  make, 
That  any  laud  to  me  thereof  should  grow, 
Without  my  plumes  from  other  wings  I  take. 
For  nothing  from  my  wit  or  will  doth  flow, 
Since  all  my  words  thy  beauty  doth  indite, 
And  love  doth  hold  my  hand  and  makes  me  write." 

It  is  not  probable  that  Stella  returned  in  equal 
measure  this  single-hearted  constancy  of  her  lover. 
She  seems  at  one  time  to  have  divided  the  light 
and  shadow  of  her  countenance  between  himself 
and  the  accomplished  Sir  Charles  Blount,  after 
ward  Lord  Mountjoy.  It  must  have  been  while 
grieving  from  such  an  eclipse  of  her  favor  that 
he  wrote  the  following  apostrophe,  which  is  cer 
tainly  a  gem  of  poetic  conception  and  melan 
choly  pathos.  The  London  Retrospective  Re 
view,  a  high  authority  in  criticism,  says  that  if 
Sidney  had  written  nothing  but  this,  he  would 
still  deserve  to  rank  among  the  poets  of  his 
country : — 


230  THE  LIFE  A**0  TIMES   OF 

"  With  how  sad  steps,  O  moone,  thou  climbst  the  skies, 
How  silently,  and  with  how  wan  a  face  ? 
What,  may  it  be  that  even  in  heavenly  place 
That  busie  archer  his  sharp  arrows  tries  ? 

u  Sure  if  that  long  with  Love  acquainted  eyes 
Can  judge  of  Love,  thou  feel'st  a  Lover's  case, 
I  read  it  in  thy  looks,  thy  languisht  grace, 
To  me  that  feele  the  like,  thy  state  descries. 

"  Then  ev'n  of  fellowship,  O  moone,  tell  me 
Is  constant  Love  deem'd  there  but  want  of  wit  ? 
Are  beauties  there  as  proud  as  here  they  be  ? 
Doe  they  above  love  to  be  lov'd,  and  yet 
Those  lovers  scorne  whom  that  Love  doth  possesse  ? 
Doe  they  call  Vertue  there  ungratefulnesse  ?  " 


He  frequently  alludes  to  the  pensive  wander 
ings  of  his  thoughts  to  their  own  sweet  secret, 
and  complains  of  the  curious  crowd  that  eye  him 
with  malicious  surmise  or  unsympathizing  sneer  : 


"  Because  I  oft  in  dark  abstracted  guise, 
Seem  most  alone  in  greatest  company ; 
With  dearth  of  words,  or  answers  quite  awry, 
To  them  that  would  make  speech  of  speech  arise  ; 

"  They  deeme,  and  of  their  doome  the  rumour  flies, 
That  poison  foule  of  bubbling  pride  doth  lye 
So  in  my  swelling  breast,  that  onely  I 
Fawne  on  my  selfe,  and  others  doe  despise  ; 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  231 

"  Yet  pride  I  thinke  doth  not  my  soule  possesse. 
Which  lookes  too  oft  in  his  unflattering  glasse, 
But  one  worse  fault  Ambition  I  confesse, 
That  makes  me  oft  my  best  friends  overpasse, 
Unseene,  unheard,  while  thought  to  highest  place 
Bends  all  his  powers,  even  unto  Stella's  grace." 

"  The  curious  wits  seeing  dull  pensiveuess 
Bewray  itself  in  my  long  settled  eyes, 
Whence  those  same  fumes  of  melancholy  rise, 
With  idle  paines,  and  missing  ayme,  doe  ghesse. 

"  Some  that  know  how  my  spring  I  did  addresse, 
Deeme  that  my  Muse  some  fruit  of  knowledge  plies ; 
Others,  because  the  Prince  my  service  tryes, 
Thinke  that  I  thinke  State  errours  to  redresse. 

"  But  harder  judges  judge  Ambition's  rage, 
Scourge  of  itselfe,  still  climbing  slippery  place, 
Holds  my  young  braine  captiv'd  in  golden  cage. 

"  O  fooles,  or  over-wise,  alas,  the  race 
Of  all  my  thoughts  hath  neither  stop  nor  start, 
But  onely  Stella's  eyes,  and  Stella's  heart." 

On  one  occasion,  kne  gracefully  compliments  the 
delicate  beauty  of  complexion  which  permitted 
his  fair  one  to  dispense  with  the  usual  feminine 
protections  against  sunshine  and  air : 

"  In  highest  way  of  heav'n  the  Sun  did  ride, 
Progressing  then  from  faire  twins'  golden  place  : 


232  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

Having  no  scarfe  of  clouds  before  his  face, 
But  shining  forth  of  heat  in  his  chiefe  pride  ; 

"  When  some  faire  Ladies  by  hard  promise  ty'd, 
On  horsebacke  met  him  in  his  furious  race, 
Yet  each  prepar'd  with  fannes'  well  shading  grace. 
From  that  foe's  wounds  their  tender  skins  to  hide ; 

"  STELLA  alone,  with  face  unarmed  marcht, 
Either  to  doe  like  him  which  open  shone, 
Or  careless  of  the  wealth  because  her  owne ; 

"  Yet  were  the  hid  and  meaner  beauties  parcht, 
Her  daintiest,  bare  went  free ;  the  cause  was  this, 
The  Sun  which  others  burn'd,  did  her  but  kisse." 

Every  one  must  sympathize  with  the  petulant 
fondness  of  his  address  to  a  friend  who  had  lately 
left  her  presence,  but  whose  answers  to  his  anx 
ious  inquiries  of  her  welfare  were  tantalizingly 
vague  and  unsatisfactory: — 

"  Be  your  words  made  (good  Sir)  of  Indian  ware, 
That  you  allow  me  them  by  so  small  rate  ? 
Or  doe  you  curted  Spartans  imitate  ? 
Or  doe  you  mean  my  tender  eares  to  spare, 

"  That  to  my  questions  you  so  totall  are  ? 
When  I  demand  of  Phoenix,  Stella's  state, 
You  say  (forsooth)  you  left  her  well  of  late : 
O  God,  thinke  you  that  satisfies  my  care  ? 

"  I  would  know  whether  she  sit  or  walke, 
How  cloath'd,  how  waited  on,  sighed  she  or  smil'd, 
Whereof,  with  whom,  how  often  did  she  talke  ? 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  -);};\ 

"  With  what  pastime  time's  journey  she  beguil'd  ? 
If  her  lips  daign'd  to  sweeten  my  poore  name  ? 
Say  all,  and  all  well  said,  still  say  the  same." 

May  not  Shakspeare,  who  evidently  read  and 
admired  the  Arcadia,  have  borrowed  hence  a  hint 
for  the  queries  of  his  Cleopatra  ? 

"  Oh  Charmian, 

"  Where  think'st  thou  he  is  now  ?     Stands  he  or  sits  he  ? 
Or  does  he  walk  ?     Or  is  he  on  his  horse  ? 
O  happy  horse,  to  bear  the  weight  of  Antony  ! " 

At  length,  the  caprice  that  tempers  the  loveli 
ness  of  Stella  seems  to  resolve  itself  into  a  return 
of  his  own  devotion,  and  he  thus  pours  forth  the 
joyous  carol  of  his  renovated  hope  : — 

"  O  joy,  too  high  for  my  low  stile  to  show  ; 
O  blisse,  fit  for  a  nobler  state  than  me  ! 
Envie,  put  out  thine  eyes  lest  thou  doe  see 
What  oceans  of  delight  in  me  doe  flow. 

"  My  friend,  that  oft  saw  through  all  maskes  my  woe, 
Come,  come,  and  let  me  poure  my  selfe  on  thee  ; 
Gone  is  the  winter  of  my  miserie, 
My  Spring  appeares,  O  see  what  here  doth  grow. 

"  For  Stella  hath  with  words  where  faith  doth  shine, 
Of  her  high  heart  giv'n  me  the  Monarchy  : 
I,  I,  O  I  may  say  that  she  is  mine. 

"  And  though  she  give  but  thus  conditionally 
This  realme  of  blisse,  while  vertue's  course  I  take, 
No  Kings  be  crown'd,  but  they  some  covenants  make.'' 


234  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

The  following   sprightly  little    song  was,  per 
haps,  written  under  the  same  inspiration : — 

"  O  faire,  O  sweet,  when  I  doe  looke  on  thee, 
In  whom  all  joyes  so  well  agree, 
Heart  and  soule  doe  dwell  in  me ; 
This  you  heare  is  not  my  tongue, 
Which  once  said  what  I  conceived, 
For  it  was  of  use  bereaved, 
With  a  cruel  answer  strong. 
No,  though  tongue  to  roofe  be  cleaved, 
Fearing  lest  he  chastised  be, 
Heart  and  soule  doe  sing  in  me. 

"  O  faire,  O  sweet,  when  I  doe  looke  on  thee, 
In  whom  all  joyes  so  well  agree ; 
Just  accord  all  musicke  makes ; 
In  thee  just  accord  excelleth, 
Where  each  part  in  such  peace  dwelleth, 
One  of  other  beautie  takes. 
Since  then  truth  to  all  mindes  telleth, 
That  in  thee  lives  harmony, 
Heart  and  soule  doe  sing  in  me. 

"  O  faire,  O  sweete,  when  I  doe  looke  on  thee, 
In  whom  all  joyes  so  well  agree  ; 
They  that  heav'n  have  knowne,  doe  say 
That  whoso  that  grace  obtaineth, 
To  see  what  faire  sight  there  raigneth, 
Forced  are  to  sing  alway  ; 
So  then  since  that  heav'n  remaineth, 
In  thy  face  I  plainly  see, 
Heart  and  soule  doe  sing  in  me." 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  235 

It  is  difficult  to  account  for  Stella's  final  ac 
ceptance  of  the  title  and  estates  of  Lord  Rich — a 
man  of  uncouth  appearance,  unpleasant  address, 
and  always  the  object  of  her  avowed  aversion. 
The  only  plausible  solution  is  that  of  a  merce 
nary  disposition  on  the  part  of  her  guardians,  for 
Lord  Rich  was  affluent,  and  Sidney  was  without 
expectations  from  his  father,  and  merely  the  heir 
in  reversion  of  his  uncle  Leicester.  Only  those 
whose  hearts  have  been  scorched  and  seared  with 
the  anguish  of  blighted  hopes,  whose  wine  of 
life  has  been  turned  to  gall  and  bitterness,  can 
sympathize  with  his  sorrow  when  the  object  of 
his  devotion  was  suddenly  wrested  from  his 
possession.  He  could  not  cease  to  love ;  but 
that,  after  her  marriage,  his  love  was  transformed 
into  a  loyal  friendship,  we  have  every  reason  to 
believe.  His  own  character  is  the  best  guarantee 
that,  as  he  sometimes  said,  "  in  a  brave  bosom, 
honor  cannot  be  rocked  asleep  by  affection  ; "  and 
since  not  detraction  itself  could  presume  in  his 
day,  and  in  the  very  face  of  his  constant  and 
public  homage,  to  asperse  his  knightly  name,  it 
is  meet  that  we,  too,  should  rightly  comprehend 
the  nature  of  his  devotion. 

Her  own  impatience  at  the  trammels  thus 
forced  upon  her,  and  the  deep  tenderness,  mingled 
with  delicate  reserve,  with  which  she  continued 


236  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

to  regard  him,  are  feelingly  pictured  in  several  of 
his  poems.  It  is  almost  needless  to  say,  that  they 
were  not  intended  by  him  for  publication,  but 
were  written  merely  to  mitigate  the  fever,  or  to 
solace  the  sadness,  of  some  solitary  hour. 

That  he  learned  the  lesson  for  which  we  are 
told  love  was  given — the  lesson  which  life  in  its 
vanities,  its  griefs,  and  even  in  its  gladness,  per 
petually  repeats — 

"  by  mortal  yearning  to  ascend 
Toward  a  higher  object — " 

we  do  not  need  assurance,  even  from  the  beauti 
ful  effusion  with  which  we  close  these  extracts  : 

"  Leave  me,  O  Love,  which  readiest  but  to  dust, 
And  them,  my  mind,  aspire  to  higher  things  ; 
Grow  rich  in  that  which  never  taketh  rust ; 
Whatever  fades,  but  fading  pleasure  brings. 

Draw  in  thy  beams,  and  humble  all  thy  might, 
To  that  sweet  yoke  where  lasting  freedomes  be ; 
Which  breaks  the  clouds,  and  opens  forth  the  light, 
That  doth  both  shine,  and  give  us  sight  to  see. 

O  take  fast  hold,  let  that  light  be  thy  guide, 

In  this  small  course  which  birth  drawes  out  to  death ; 

And  thinke  how  ill  becometh  him  to  slide, 

Who  seeketh  heav'n,  and  comes  of  heav'nly  breath. 

Then  farewell  world,  thy  uttermost  I  see, 

Eternal  Love,  maintaine  thy  life  in  me." 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  £37 

It  is  sad  to  trace  the  history  of  the  peerless 
beauty,  whose  name  is  imperishable,  because 
linked  with  that  of  her  poet.  We  cannot  forgive 
her  for  her  coquetry  with  Lord  Mountjoy,  while 
honored  with  the  love  of  such  a  man  as  Sidney  ; 
but  her  conduct  after  the  death  of  the  latter,  was 
so  utterly  devoid  of  principle,  as  to  prove  that 
she  could  never  have  been  entitled  to  homage  so 
reverent  and  confiding.  Her  subsequent  life  was 
a  tissue  of  misery  and  misfortune.  While  her 
brother,  of  whom  she  was  proudly  fond,  was  a 
prisoner  in  the  Tower,  and  there  yet  seemed  hope 
that  the  Queen  might  forgive  his  offences  for  the 
sake  of  the  offender,  Lady  Rich  labored  unceas 
ingly  for  his  pardon ;  besieging  her  Majesty  with 
tearful  appeals  and  written  petitions,  until  re 
fused  further  audience.  After  his  execution,  she 
was  almost  heart-broken,  and  entirely  reckless  of 
public  opinion.  She  married  Lord  Mountjoy  in 
1605,  after  obtaining  a  divorce  from  Lord  Rich 
for  that  purpose,  but  the  scandal  that  preceded 
and  attended  the  alliance,  was  so  open  and 
severe,  as  to  produce  the  most  unhappy  effects 
upon  both  parties.  The  marriage  of  a  divorced 
wife  during  the  lifetime  of  her  husband,  was  con 
sidered  at  that  time,  in  England,  an  outrageous 
breach  of  decorum.  Archbishop  Laud,  who  per 
formed  the  ceremony,  ever  after  observed  its 


238  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

anniversary  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer. 
Mountjoy,  a  high-spirited  and  distinguished  man, 
was  unable  to  endure  the  infamy  of  a  blot  upon 
his  'scutcheon,  and  died  a  year  after ;  and  Stella 
ended  her  life,  a  few  months  later,  in  solitude  and 
grief. 

In  1583,  Sir  Philip  married  the  only  daughter 
of  Sir  Francis  Walsingham,  upon  whose  "beauty 
met  with  virtue,"  Ben  Jonson  glowingly  dilates. 
Although  Spenser  averred,  that  Stella  was  the 
only  woman  whom  Sidney  really  loved,  it  may 
be  inferred  from  some  of  his  poems,  addressed 
to  his  wife,  that  he  regarded  her  with  affection 
and  esteem. 

It  seems,  by  a  letter  from  Walsingham  to 
Hatton,  dated  March  19th,  1582,  that  the  Queen, 
true  to  her  usual  antipathy  to  "  domestic  bliss," 
was  displeased  with  Sidney's  pending  marriage. 
The  secretary  says,  he  "  had  well  hoped  that  his 
paynfull  and  faithfulle  service  done  unto  her 
Majestic,  would  have  secured  her  good  lyking 
thereof,"  and  he  begs  Hatton  to  let  her  know 
that  "  the  matche  is  held  for  concluded,  and  how 
just  cause  he  will  have  to  find  himself  aggrieved 
if  her  Majestic  still  showe  her  mislike  thereof."  * 

*  Wright's  Elizabeth. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY  239 


CHAPTER  X. 

E,  of  this  nineteenth  century,  when 
science  and  enterprise  have  laid  bare 
the  remotest  nooks  of  our  terrestrial 
home,  even  to  the  ice-bound  secrets  of  hyperbo 
rean  zones,  can  hardly  fancy  the  golden  mystery 
which,  in  1585,  still  enshrouded  the  Western 
Continent.  There  yet  lived  in  England  a  few 
venerable  men  who  could  talk  of  the  incredulity 
with  which,  in  their  boyhood,  people  listened  to 
the  story  of  the  Genoese  adventurer,  whose  chi 
merical  wanderings  had  led  him  to  an  immense 
and  unexplored  land,  teeming  with  wealth,  and 
beautiful  as  Paradise  itself.  They  well  remem 
bered,  too,  the  dark  forebodings  of  the  aged,  the 
enthusiastic  cheers  of  the  young,  that  rang  in  the 
ears  of  John  and  Sebastian  Cabot,  when  Henry 
VII.  granted  them  leave  to  sail  with  their  own 
little  fleet  in  search  of  distant  and  unknown 
lands ;  and  the  same  "  old  men  eloquent "  told  of 
the  wonder  and  applause  which  greeted  the  dar 
ing  mariners,  when  they  returned  with  the  map 


240  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

of  the  coast  from  Labrador  to  Albermarle  Sound, 
and  vested  in  England  the  primal  right  to  the 
Continent  of  North  America. 

From  that  time  onward,  the  eager  eyes  of 
Europe  all  turned  toward  the  enchanted  West. 
The  fisheries  of  Newfoundland  brought  wealth 
and  commerce  to  the  English  and  the  French. 
The  freebooters  of  Spain  wrung  from  the  gentle 
Mexicans  their  accumulated  treasures.  The  Dutch 
merchants  planted  their  colonies  among  the  man 
grove  trees  and  the  gorgeous  birds  of  Surinam. 
The  flag  of  the  fleur  de  lys  announced  French 
possession  of  the  stately  forests  of  Guiana. 
The  standard  of  Portugal  was  raised  amid  the 
pines  and  tamarinds  of  Brazil.  Ponce  de  Leon 
sought  the  fountain  of  perpetual  youth  among 
the  mulberry  groves  of  Florida.  De  Soto  and 
his  brave  comrades,  breaking  through  the  soli 
tudes  watered  by  the  Ogeechee  and  the  Altamaha, 
plucked  the  purple  grapes  from  the  banks  of  the 
Alabama,  and  gazed  in  silent  wonder  upon  the 
magnificent  Mississippi.  The  wildest  fables  re 
garding  the  new  world  gained  universal  credence. 
Its  rivers  were  said  to  sparkle  with  sands  of  gold ; 
its  inhabitants  to  deck  themselves  with  inestima 
ble  gems,  of  whose  value  they  knew  nothing;  the 
dreams  of  alchemy  were  there  fulfilled,  without 
the  aid  of  crucible  and  fire;  the  Elysian  fields 


SIE  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  241 

were  not  more  redolent  of  fragrance,  or  prolific 
in  beauty,  in  every  form  of  fruit  and  flower. 
No  nation  listened  with  more  credulous  delight 
than  did  the  English.  At  the  time  of  which  we 
write,  Frobisher,  that  model  of  patient  seamen, 
had  recently  returned  from  the  last  of  his  three 
voyages  to  Labrador  and  Greenland,  bringing 
each  time,  however,  no  richer  reward  than  one  or 
two  specimen  savages,  and  heaps  of  black  earth, 
supposed  to  contain  the  precious  metal.*  Weather- 


*  Sidney's  interest  in  these  enterprises  is  indicated  in  a 
letter  to  Languet,  dated  October  1,1577:  .  .  .  "I  wrote 
you  a  year  ago  about  a  certain  Frobisher,  who,  in  rivalry  of 
Magellan  has  explored  that  sea  he  supposes  to  wash  the  north 
part  of  America.  It  is  a  marvellous  history.  After  having 
made  slow  progress  in  the  past  year,  he  touched  at  a  certain 
island  for  the  purpose  of  recruiting  himself  and  his  crew. 
Here,  by  chance,  a  young  man,  one  of  the  ship's  company, 
picked  up  a  piece  of  earth  which  he  saw  glittering  on  the 
ground,  and  showed  it  to  Frobisher,  who  being  engaged  in 
other  matters,  and  not  believing  that  the  precious  metals 
were  produced  in  a  region  so  far  to  the  north,  considered  it 
of  no  value.  .  .  The  young  man  kept  the  earth  by  him  as 
a  memorial  of  his  labour,  (for  he  had  no  thought  of  any  thing 
else,)  till  his  return  to  London.  And  there,  when  one  of  his 
friends  perceived  it  shining  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  he 
made  an  assay,  and  found  that  it  was  the  purest  gold,  and 
without  any  other  intermixture  of  other  metal.  Wherefore 
Frobisher  went  back  to  the  place,  last  spring,  under  orders  to 
16 


242  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

beaten  tars  held  forth  to  gaping  crowds  in  the 
little  alehouses  of  Falmouth  and  of  Deptford, 
upon  the  hazardous  excitements  of  polar  naviga 
tion,  of  hidden  rocks,  unknown  currents,  rushing 

explore  that  island ;  and,  should  it  answer  his  expectation,  to 
proceed  no  farther.  This  he  has  done,  and  has  now  returned, 
bringing  his  ships,  of  which  he  had  only  three,  and  those  of 
small  size,  full  laden ;  and  he  is  said  (for  they  have  not  yet 
unloaded)  to  have  brought  two  hundred  tons  of  ore.  He  has 
given  it  as  his  decided  opinion,  that  the  island  is  so  productive 
in  metals  as  to  seem  very  far  to  surpass  the  country  of  Peru. 
There  are  also  six  other  islands  near  to  this,  which  seem  very 
little  inferior.  It  is  therefore  at  this  time  under  debate  by 
what  means  these,  our  hitherto  successful  labors,  can  be  still 
carried  on  in  safety  against  the  attacks  of  other  nations, 
among  whom  the  Spaniards  and  Danes  seem  especially  to  be 
considered :  the  former,  as  claiming  all  the  western  parts  by 
right  from  the  Pope  ;  the  latter,  as,  being  more  northerly  and 
nearer,  and  relying  on  their  possession  of  Iceland,  they  are 
better  provided  with  the  means  of  undertaking  this  voyage. 
I  wish  you  would  send  me  your  opinion  on  this  subject,  and 
at  the  same  time  describe  the  most  convenient  method  of 
working  those  ores." 

Languet,  in  his  reply,  commends  the  enterprise  of  Frobish- 
er,  but  says  that  he  has  noticed  in  Sidney  an  eagerness  for 
adventure,  and  he  warningly  adds :  "  Do  not  let  the  cursed  hun 
ger  after  gold  creep  into  that  spirit  of  yours,  into  which 
nothing  has  been  admitted  but  the  love  of  goodness  and  the 
desire  of  earning  the  good- will  of  all  men." 

Five  months  after  his  first  notice  of  the  subject,  Sidney 
wrote  asain :  "  Frobisher's  gold  is  now  melted  and  does  not 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  243 

waterfalls,  and  moving  mountains  of  ice.  Raleigh's 
colony,  under  the  gallant  Sir  Richard  Grenville, 
had  just  landed  on  the  sunny  isles  of  Roanoke, 
and  sent  back  glowing  descriptions  of  "  the  good 
liest  land  under  the  cope  of  heaven."  Francis 
Drake  had  immortalized  his  name  by  the  circum 
navigation  of  the  globe ;  and  though  the  achieve 
ment  was  tarnished  by  his  extensive  piracies 
among  the  Spanish  possessions  in  the  harbors  of 
the  Pacific,  the  Queen  had  given  him  her  sanction 
and  encouragement.  It  may  be  said  in  his  de 
fence,  that  Spain  was  in  avowed  antagonism  to 
England.  A  band  of  troops,  and  large  sums  of 
money,  had  been  sent  in  1582  to  Ireland,  to  stir 
up  its  inhabitants  to  further  rebellion,  in  revenge 
of  the  Queen's  assistance  to  the  Netherlands ; 
and  the  ships  of  both  countries,  traversing  the 
high  seas  for  commerce  or  adventure,  delighted 
to  express  their  national  animosity  by  individual 
reprisal. 

The  youth  of  England  were  fired  with  emula* 

turn  out  so  valuable  as  he  at  first  boasted ;  however,  these 
islands  at  62°  are  not  to  be  despised  ;  but  they  keep  this  as  a 
great  secret,  lest,  as  you  know,  the  opportunity  be  forestalled. 
Nay,  more,  they  expect  to  be  able  to  cross  the  sea  at  the  same 
latitude ;  'so  incorrect  is  the  description  of  the  world  as  given 
by  cosmographers ;  but  if  there  should  be  open  sea  at  such  a 
temperature,  you  perceive  it  will  be  of  great  importance." 


244  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

tion  of  enterprise  and  of  wealth,  and  filled  with 
longings  to  behold  the  Eden  of  the  West.  Ava 
rice  might  there  slake  its  fiercest  thirst ;  Romance 
realize  its  wildest  dreams;  Ambition  revel  in 
territorial  conquest  and  colonial  freedom.  It  is 
not  surprising  that  Philip  Sidney,  with  his  poetic 
fancy,  his  generous  impulse,  his  craving  for 
heroic  action,  looked  with  impatient  eye  from  the 
disappointments,  the  intrigues,  and  the  restrictions 
of  a  court  life,  towards  the  land  which  mystery 
and  distance  gilded  with  twofold  charm.  He 
once  wrote  despondingly  to  Languet,  in  regard  to 
the  state  of  Protestant  affairs  in  the  Netherlands  : 
"  I  seem  to  see  our  cause  withering  away,  and 
am  now  meditating  with  myself  some  Indian 
project." 

When  Drake  was  fitting  out  his  second  expe 
dition,  in  the  summer  of  1585,  Sir  Philip,  in 
accordance  with  one  of  his  favorite  mottoes, 
"Aut  viam  inveniam  aut  faciam" — 1  will  either 
find  a  way  or  make  one, — engaged  to  associate 
himself  with  it,  and  to  equip,  from  his  own  purse, 
both  a  naval  and  a  land  armament.  Sir  Fulke 
Greville,  who  designed  to  accompany  him,  de 
clares  that  his  friend  meditated  a  check  upon  the 
dangerous  power  of  Spain,  by  attacking  its  West 
India  possessions,  and  that  he  also  projected  the 
foundation  of  a  new  and  extensive  empire,  which, 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  245 

redeeming  the  forests  from  their  solitude,  and 
blending  the  strength  of  civilization  with  the  fertil 
ity  of  nature,  should  offer  to  the  adventurous  a 
broad  arena,  and  to  the  oppressed  a  sanctuary ; 
and,  by  its  wise  and  liberal  administration,  rees 
tablish  the  golden  reign  of  peace. 

He  says  that  the  scheme  was  the  result  of  long 
and  serious  thought,  and  was  "  the  exactest 
model  Europe  ever  saw;  a  conquest  not  to  be 
enterprised  but  by  Sir  Philip's  reaching  spirit, 
that  grasped  all  circumstances  and  interests." 

Sir  Fulke  was,  as  we  have  previously  stated, 
Sidney's  most  intimate  friend,  and  probably 
better  acquainted  with  his  purposes  than  any 
other.  We  cannot  discern,  through  the  dim  light 
of  Sir  Philip's  scant  memorials,  all  the  motives 
by  which  he  was  actuated ;  but  it  is  impossible 
to  believe  that  the  pure  principles  which  had  thus 
far  guided  his  life,  were  now  sacrificed  to  cupidity 
or  ambition.  This  project,  however,  though  car 
ried  on  with  great  secrecy,  was  a  failure.  The 
Queen,  hearing  of  his  intended  departure,  recalled 
"  her  Philip  "  by  a  peremptory  message,  and  gave 
further  orders,  that  if  he  declined  to  obey,  the 
entire  fleet  must  be  detained.  A  vexatious  man 
date,  it  must  be  well  imagined,  however  indicative 
of  her  partiality;  "yet,"  says  Sir  Fulke,  "did  he 
sit  this  processe  without  noise  or  anger." 


246  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

It  is  difficult  to  account  for  the  persis 
tent  refusals  of  Elizabeth  to  grant  him  ad 
vancement,  either  in  a  foreign  land,  or  in  her  own 
service.  Her  arbitrary  dictum  had  no  other  ex 
planation  than  that  of  the  fiat  of  Louis  XIV. : 
"Car  tel  est  noire  plaisir"  But  Sidney's  fault 
was  impetuosity  of  temper, — a  fault  almost  in 
separable  from  youth  and  a  fervid  nature, — and 
it  may  have  influenced,  in  some  degree,  the 
policy  of  the  cautious  queen. 

He  certainly  possessed  her  esteem,  and  was  the 
constant  subject  of  her  praise.  He  was  one  of 
her  favored  band  of  gentlemen  pensioners,  ranked 
by  Shakspeare  superior  to  earls,  and  there  is 
casual  mention  of  the  gift  from  her  of  a  living  in 
Wales;  she  had  recently  admitted  him  to  her 
privy  council,  and  conferred  on  him  the  honor  of 
knighthood — an  honor  the  more  distinguished 
because,  during  her  entire  reign,  only  six  earls  and 
nine  barons  were  elevated  to  the  peerage,  and 
knights  were  created  with  great  discrimination. 
But  a  request,  preferred  by  him  in  1582,  for  the 
office  of  master  of  the  ordinance  in  connection 
with  his  uncle,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  was  refused. 
That,  however,  may  have  been  from  some  special 
ill  humor  on  the  part  of  Burleigh,  to  whom  the 
letter  was  addressed,  toward  Leicester ;  and  the 
Queen  was  probably  influenced  by  him  in  her  de- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  247 

cision,  for  Sir  Philip  says :  "  I  learn  that  her 
majesty  yields  gratious  heering  unto  the  suit." 
He  adds  that  he  desires  it  "  much  more  for  the 
being  busied  in  a  thing  of  some  serviceable  ex 
perience,  than  for  any  other  commoditie,  which  is 
but  small,  that  can  arise  of  it." 

An  apochryphal  story  has  gained  credence  with 
many  of  the  writers  of  Sir  Philip's  life,  that,  in 
1585,  it  was  proposed  to  nominate  him  to  the 
elective  crown  of  Poland,  then  left  vacant,  as 
they  assert,  by  the  death  of  Stephen  Battori. 
They  tell  us  that  his  royal  mistress  forbade  the 
intended  honor  to  her  knight,  with  the  declara 
tion  that  "  her  sheep  should  not  be  marked  with 
a  stranger's  brand,"  and  that  Sir  Philip  loyally 
replied,  he  "  would  rather  remain  the  subject  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  than  accept  the  highest  prefer 
ment  in  a  foreign  land."  This  incident,  if  true, 
would  doubtless  have  formed  a  brilliant  episode 
in  Sidney's  career,  but  unfortunately  for  romance, 
it  can  have  little  or  no  foundation  in  historical 
fact.  Fulke  Greville,  his  intimate  friend  and 
biographer,  does  not  mention  it  at  all.  The  stan 
dard  historians,  Thuanus,  De  Thou,  Lelevel,  in  his 
Histoire  de  la  Polonie,  and  most  others,  agree  in 
the  assertion  that  Battori  did  not  die  until  Decem 
ber,  1586,  which  was  two  months  after  the  death 
of  Sidney.  The  story  rests  upon  the  authority 


248  THE   LIFE  A^D  TIMES   OF 

of  Naunton,  whose  "Fragmenta  Regalia"  is 
rather  a  collection  of  anecdotes  and  the  gossip 
of  the  times,  than  a  work  of  reliable  veracity.  It 
seems  to  us  by  no  means  improbable,  however, 
that  some  of  Sir  Philip's  numerous  friends  may 
have  suggested  the  presentation  of  his  name  to 
the  Electors  of  Poland,  in  view  of  some  future 
election,  and  that  the  story  of  his  positive  nomi 
nation  may  have  arisen  from  this  shadowy  pre 
sumption. 

While  thus,  day  by  day,  and  year  by  year, 
Sidney  rose  to  eminence  and  fame,  the  unseen 
shadows  of  death  were  drawing  near ;  the  drama 
which  developed  the  latest  phase  of  his  character 
was  in  rapid  preparation. 

The  seven  United  Provinces  had  lost  their 
pillar  of  light — William  of  Orange  was  no  more. 
After  escaping  numberless  perils  from  the  spy, 
the  traitor,  and  the  assassin,  he  had  at  last  been 
shot  by  an  insane  fanatic,  and  was  now  sepul 
chred  in  the  land  he  had  served  so  purely,  so 
zealously,  with  such  untiring  self-denial,  and 
such  consummate  wisdom,  that  his  love  appears 
less  human  than  divine.  The  Republic  was 
shrouded  in  gloom ;  its  prospects  were  more 
alarming  than  at  any  previous  time,  from  the  com 
mencement  of  the  war.  A  more  pathetic  em 
phasis  was  attached  to  the  emblem  stamped 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  249 

upon  the  coin  of  the  unhappy  state — a  little  ship 
struggling  without  sails  or  oars  against  adverse 
waves,  with  the  motto,  "  Incertum  quo  fata 
ferant."  * 

The  Duke  of  Anjou,  proving  recreant  to  his 
promised  defence,  had  been  dismissed;  and  soon 
after  ended,  in  France,  a  life  made  up  of  follies  and 
of  failures.  Alexander  Farnese,  Duke  of  Parma, 
had  conquered  nearly  the  whole  of  Flanders  and 
Brabant,  and  triumphantly  established  the  Span 
ish  troops  in  Ghent,  Brussels,  and  Antwerp, 
acquiring  a  numerous  fleet  by  the  reduction  of 
the  latter  city.  With  the  tactics  of  despair,  its 
citizens  cut  away  their  dykes,  inundating  the 
country,  and  sweeping  off  his  magazines;  and 
vainly  endeavored  to  burn  the  stupendous  forti 
fied  bridge  which  he  had  built  across  the  wide 
estuary  of  the  Scheldt,  for  the  purpose  of  pre 
venting  their  communication  with  the  sea.  The 
city,  beautiful  and  opulent  still,  despite  repeated 
ravages,  was  subjected  to  the  most  flagrant  rapa 
cities.  Plunder,  fire,  massacre,  and  the  flight  of 
twenty  thousand  of  its  principal  inhabitants, 
wrought  a  destruction  so  rapid  and  complete,  as 
finds  few  parallels  in  history. 

The   whole   confederacy   trembled   before   the 

*  Uncertain  whither  Fate  may  bear  me. 


250  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

accumulating  force  of  the  Duke  of  Parma.  Fail 
ing  in  their  application  for  aid  from  the  King  of 
France,  they  again  applied  to  Queen  Elizabeth, 
offering  her  the  sovereignty  of  their  realm,  and 
entreating  her  support.  She  rejected  the  offer, 
from  the  same  cautious  anxiety  to  avoid  the  im 
putation  of  encroachment  on  the  rights  of  Philip 
II.  that  had  dictated  her  refusal  of  a  similar 
petition,  a  few  years  before.  But,  more  than  ever 
aware  tjiat  the  safety  and  welfare  of  her  own 
kingdom  were  closely  connected  with  the  inde 
pendence  of  her  affluent  commercial  neighbors, 
she  now  openly  espoused  their  cause.  A  treaty 
was  concluded  in  June,  1585,  which  secured  to 
them  the  aid  of  6,000  troops,  paid  by  herself 
during  the  continuance  of  the  war,  and  the  prom 
ise  of  naval  assistance,  if  it  should  be  required. 
In  pledge  of  subsequent  payment,  she  was  to  re 
ceive  the  towns  of  Brille  and  Flushing,  and  the 
Fort  of  Rammekins.  She  invested  Sir  Thomas 
Cecil,  the  eldest  son  of  Lord  Burleigh,  with  the 
command  of  the  strongly  fortified  island-town  of 
Brille  ;  and  feeling,  no  doubt,  that  she  must 
henceforth  give  a  wider  scope  to  the  aspiring 
spirit  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  she  appointed  him 
Governor  of  Flushing.  This  town  was  con 
sidered,  from  its  position  at  the  mouth  of  the 
western  Scheldt,  one  of  the  most  important 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  251 

points  in  the  Netherlands.  The  last  instructions 
of  Charles  V.  to  his  son,  referred  to  the  particular 
care  which  he  should  employ  for  its  security. 
After  the  revolt  began,  its  citizens  drove  out  the 
Spanish  garrison,  destroyed  the  new-laid  founda 
tions  of  their  citadel,  and  with  the  assistance  of 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  his  confederates, 
planted  themselves  in  an  attitude  of  resistance, 
which  they  were  still  able  to  maintain. 

Sir  Philip  assumed  the  duties  of  his  office  on 
the  18th  of  November.  He  was  welcomed  by 
the  Dutch  with  every  mark  of  distinction,  and 
immediately  appointed  Colonel  of  all  their  regi 
ments.  He  left  his  wife,  Lady  Frances  Sidney, 
at  home,  until  he  could  make  arrangements  for 
her  reception  there ;  because,  as  he  wrote  to  his 
father-in-law,  to  whom  he  gave  a  power  of  attor 
ney  over  the  disposition  and  care  of  his  property, 
he  "might  take  such  a  course  as  would  not  be 
fitt  for  anye  of  the  feminin  gender." 

The  command  of  the  English  forces  was  given 
to  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  under  the  title  of  Gen 
eral  of  the  Queen's  Auxiliaries,  and  to  this  was 
added  a  control  over  the  navy,  paramount  to  that 
of  the  Lord  Admiral  himself.* 


*  It  is  a  remarkable  evidence  of  the  religious  sentiment  of 
the  times,  that,  among  the  instructions  which  Leicester  re- 


252  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

He  was  attended  by  five  hundred  of  the  youth 
ful  nobility  ;  adventurous  spirits,  that  burned  to 
aid  the  Belgian  revolt  against  the  tyranny  of 
Philip  II.  and  to  win  distinction  in  this  famous 
school  of  martial  discipline.  Among' the  number 
was  the  step-son  of  Leicester,  and  brother  of  Sid 
ney's  Stella,  Robert,  Earl  of  Essex ;  who,  though 
only  nineteen,  had  already  appeared  at  court,  and 
been  received  by  the  Queen  with  a  favor  that 
clearly  foreshadowed  his  predestined  position  in 
her  regard.  Even  at  this  early  age,  he  was  con 
spicuous  by  his  imperious,  though  graceful,  de 
meanor,  and  by  his  personal  prodigality. 

Leicester  was  perfectly  unfit  for  this  service, 
having  neither  the  courage,  the  integrity,  nor  the 
military  science,  which  it  required.  As  usual, 
however,  his  discriminating  mistress  was  either 
wilfully  or  unconsciously  blind  to  his  defects. 
Her  partiality  painted  him,  as  her  own  face  upon 
canvas  has,  by  her  unartistic  decree,  descended 
to  us — without  shadows.  But  he  had  practised 
so  long  and  so  well  the  dazzling  arts  of  presence 
and  address,  that  the  Provinces  were  at  first  de 
ceived  as  completely  as  was  the  Queen.  Land 
ing  at  Flushing  with  his  splendid  retinue,  he  was 


ceived,  was  a  special  order  to  require  his  soldiers  "  to  serve 
God,  and  demean  themsel'ves  religiously." 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  253 

received  by  Sir  Philip  with  cordial  ceremonial, 
and  by  the  Belgians  universally  with  the  festivi 
ties  and  pomp  appropriate  to  a  conquering  prince, 
rather  than  to  the  subject  of  an  ally.  They  fol 
lowed  him  with  acclamations,  and  marked  his 
way  by  triumphal  arches ;  appointed  a  guard  to 
attend  him,  and  conferred  on  him  the  offices  of 
Govern  or- General,  and  Commander-in-Chief  of 
the  Army  and  Navy.  Doubtless  they  hoped  that 
homage  to  the  favorite  would  gratify  the  Queen, 
and  secure  her  deeper  interest  in  their  behalf, 
and  were  both  chagrined  and  alarmed  when,  with 
characteristic  jealousy,  she  sent  over  her  Vice- 
Chancellor,  Sir  Thomas  Heneage,  to  express  her 
high  indignation  that  such  unexampled  honors 
should  be  bestowed  upon  a  subject  whom,  as  she 
said,  she  "  had  raised  out  of  the  dust."  Expla 
nations  and  submissions  were  hastily  returned, 
but  as  Leicester  retained  his  authority,  we  may 
plausibly  infer  that  she  was  reluctant  to  wound 
his  vanity  or  his  ambition,  by  its  withdrawal. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  Provinces 
themselves  repented  of  their  generosity.  The 
incapacity  of  the  new  Governor  to  conduct  their 
military  affairs,  and  his  arbitrary  and  unjust  in 
terference  in  the  civil  administration,  filled  them 
with  consternation.  He  laid  such  restrictions 
upon  their  trade  that  many  of  their  merchants 


254  THE  LIFE   AND  TIMES   OF 

removed  from  the  country.  He  altered  the  coin, 
levied  taxes  without  their  consent,  and  had  the 
moneys  delivered,  not  to  their  own  treasurer,  but 
to  one  of  his  appointment,  who  refused  to  render 
them  his  accounts.  He  collected  large  sums  for 
the  alleged  purpose  of  paying  the  troops,  who, 
after  all,  were  so  ill  paid,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
prevent  a  mutiny.  He  ejected  their  own  distin 
guished  citizens  from  offices  of  trust,  and  sup 
planted  them  with  his  own  minions,  many  of 
whom  were  known  as  artful  and  treacherous 
men.  In  all  respects,  he  treated  them  more  like 
a  conquered  people  whose  sovereignty  he  pur- 
'posed  to  assume,  than  as  a  free  and  allied  re 
public.* 

And  now  we  are  called  to  witness  the  mag 
nanimous  conduct  of  his  admirable  nephew ;  the 
upright  and  decisive  efforts  by  which  Sir  Philip 
labored  to  remedy  the  evils  of  this  miserable 
administration.  Having  been  appointed  general 
of  the  English  cavalry,  he  took  a  very  active  part 
in  the  campaign,  supplied  the  soldiers  from  his 
private  purse,  and  encouraged  them  by  his  prom 
ises  and  presence  ;  constantly  mediated  between 
his  uncle  and  the  discontented  citizens,  and  effec 
tually  conciliated  Count  Hohenlo,  who  was  at 

*  Watson's  Philip  II. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  255 

the  head  of  a  rival  faction.  Leicester  himself 
acknowledged,  after  Sidney's  death,  that  he  sus 
tained  his  own  authority  in  the  Low  Countries, 
through  his  superior  merit.* 

In  a  letter  to  his  uncle,  dated  Feb.  2,  1586,  Sir 
Philip  remonstrates  with  him  on  the  ill  usage  of 
the  English  soldiers.  "  It  grieves  me  very  much 
the  soldiers  are  so  badly  dealt  with  in  your  first 
beginning  of  government,  not  only  in  their  pay, 
but  in  taking  booties  from  them,  as  by  your 
Excellency's  letter  I  find."  In  the  same  letter 
he  requests  that  forces  may  be  sent  to  besiege 
Steenburg.  "  I  will  undertake  upon  my  life 
either  to  ruin  it,  or  to  make  the  enemy  raise  his 
siege  from  Grave,  or,  which  I  most  hope,  both." 
At  another  time  he  intimates  that  "  his  charges, 
divers  ways,  and  particularly  his  horsemen,  grow 
greater  than  he  is  able  to  go  through  with  ; "  but 
protests  that  "  so  far  from  desiring  gain,  he  is 
willing  to  spend  all  he  can  make." 

A  letter,  addressed  by  him  to  Secretary  Wal- 
singham,  reveals  to  us  his  own  zeal  in  the  Prot 
estant  cause,  and  the  inadequate  provision  made 
for  her  army  by  the  Queen ;  presenting,  too,  in 
a  very  interesting  view,  as  says  one  of  his  biog 
raphers,  "  the  same  Sidney,  whose  pen  had  lately 

*  Fulke   Greville. 


256  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

been  dedicated  to  the  soft  and  sweet  relaxation 
of  poesy  and  pastoral  romance,  now  writing  from 
his  tent,  amidst  the  din  of  war,  with  the  stern 
simplicity  and  short-breathed  impatience  of  an 
old  soldier."  We  subjoin  a  few  extracts  : — 
"  RIGHT  HONORABLE, 

"  I  receave  dyvers  letters  from  you,  full  of 
the  discomfort  which  I  see,  and  am  sorry  to  see, 
yl  yow  daily  meet  with  at  home  ;  and  I  think, 
such  is  ye  goodwil  it  pleaseth  you  to  bear  me,  y1 
my  part  of  ye  trouble  is  something  yl  troubles 
yow  ;  but  I  beseech  yow,  let  it  not.  I  had  before 
cast  my  count  of  danger,  want,  and  disgrace  ; 
and,  before  God,  Sir,  it  is  trew  in  my  hart,  the 
love  of  ye  caws  doth  so  far  overbalance  them  all, 
yl.  with  God's  grace,  thei  shall  never  make  me 
weery  of  my  resolution.  If  her  Ma1  wear  the 
fountain,  I  wold  fear,  considering  what  I  daily 
fynd,  y'  we  shold  wax  dry ;  but  she  is  but  a 
means  whom  God  useth,  and  I  know  not 
whether  I  am  deceaved,  but  I  am  faithfully  per 
suaded,  y'  if  she  shold  wthdraw  herself,  other 
springes  wold  ryse  to  help  this  action:  for 
methinkes  I  see  ye  great  work  indeed  in  hand 
against  the  abusers  of  the  world,  wherein  it  is 
no  greater  fault  to  have  confidence  in  man's 
power,  then  it  is  too  hastily  to  despair  of  God's 
work.  I  think  a  wyse  and  constant  man  ought 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  257 

never  to  greeve  whyle  he  doth  plaie,  as  a  man 
may  sai,  his  own  part  truly,  though  others  be 
out ;  but  if  himself  leav  his  hold  becaws  other 
marriners  will  be  ydle,  he  will  hardly  forgive 
himself  his  own  fault.  For  me,  I  can  not  promis 

of  my  own  cource,  no,  not  of  the becaws  I 

know  there  is  a  eyer  power  yl  must  uphold  me, 
or  else  I  shall  fall ;  but  certainly  I  trust  I  shall 
not  by  other  men's  wantes  be  drawne  from  my 
self ;  therefore,  good  Sir,  to  whome  for  my  par 
ticular  I  am  more  bownd  then  to  all  men  be- 
sydes.  be  not  troubled  with  my  troubles,  for  I 
have  seen  the  worst,  in  my  judgement,  before 
hand,  and  wors  then  yl  can  not  bee." 

"  If  the  Queene  pai  not  her  souldiours  she 
must  loos  her  garrisons;  ther  is  no  dout  thereof; 
but  no  man  living  shall  be  hable  to  sai  the  fault 
is  in  me.  What  releefe  I  can  do  them,  I  will. 
I  will  spare  no  danger,  if  occasion  serves.  I  am 
sure  no  creature  shall  be  hable  to  lay  injustice 
to  my  charge ;  and,  for  furdre  doutes,  truly  1 
stand  not  uppon  them.  We  shall  have  a  sore 
warr  upon  us  this  sommer,  wherein  if  appoint 
ment  had  been  kept,  and  these  disgraces  forborn, 
wch  have  greatly  weakened  us,  we  had  been 
victorious. — It  hath  been  a  costly  beginning  unto 
me  this  war,  by  reason  I  had  nothing  propor 
tioned  unto  it ;  my  servantes  unexperienced,  and 


258  THE:  LIFE  A^TD   TIMES   OF 

myself  every  way  unfurnished I  have  been 

vyldli  deceaved  for  armures  or  horsemen ;  if  yow 
cold  speedily  spare  me  any  out  of  your  armury, 
I  will  send  them  yow  back  as  soon  as  my  own 
be  finished.  There  was  never  so  good  father 
find  a  more  troublesome  son."  Dated  at  Utrecht, 
March  24. 

The  Belgians  fought  as  men  fight  for  liberty 
and  life  ;  the  English,  as  loyal  subjects  and  earn 
est  allies ;  but  the  contest  was  unequal,  and  its 
progress  discouraging  and  slow.  The  Spaniards 
were  better  trained,  more  subtle,  and  moreover 
inspired  by  the  acute  science  and  cool  daring 
of  the  greatest  general  of  the  age.  Alexander 
of  Parma  was  the  nephew,  the  rival,  and  the 
successor  of  Don  John ;  possessing  his  ambition 
without  his  romance,  his  bravery,  but  not  his 
fascination;  inferior  in  the  graces  that  woo  and 
win  ;  superior  in  military  command,  and  in  pa 
tient,  unscrupulous  execution.  When  but  six 
years  old,  he  had  delightedly  witnessed  the  siege 
of  his  native  city,  and  its  brave  defence  by  his 
father,  Ottavio  Farnese.  At  eleven,  he  plead 
with  tears  for  permission  to  serve  as  a  volunteer 
at  the  battle  of  St.  Quentin.  In  early  manhood, 
in  default  of  the  excitements  of  war,  he  nightly 
perambulated  the  streets  of  Parma  in  disguise, 
to  measure  his  sword  with  chance  combatants 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  259 

who  seemed  worthy  of  his  challenge.  When  the 
last  crusade  was  proclaimed  against  the  Turks, 
he  flew  to  the  Levant,  obtained  a  place  in  the 
very  front  of  the  battle  at  Lepanto,  sprang  alone 
on  board  the  doubly-armed  treasure-ship  of  the 
enemy,  cut  a  passage  for  his  followers  with 
superhuman  strokes  from  his  two-handed  sword, 
and  securing  that  galley,  and  another  which  was 
sent  to  its  rescue,  divided  the  immense  booty 
between  himself  and  his  crew.*  In  the  Nether 
lands,  he  won  the  battle  of  Gemblours  by  a  des 
perate  manoeuvre,  and  showed  himself  equally 
ready  for  stratagem  and  for  conflict.  His  stately 
demeanor,  dark  piercing  eyes,  fine  features,  and 
martial  figure,  habited  in  high  ruff,  gold-inlaid 
armor,  and  the  decoration  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
betokened  the  warrior  and  the  prince.  Self- 
poised,  politic,  and  prudent,  his  very  lenity  to 
wards  the  vanquished  made  him  a  more  formi 
dable  foe  than  any  of  Philip's  emissaries  by 
whom  he  had  been  preceded. 

Within  a  few  months  after  the  arrival  of  the 
English  reinforcements,  he  besieged  the  towns 
of  Grave,  Venlo,  and  Nuys,  all  of  which  were 
compelled  to  surrender.  The  allied  forces  were 
less  successful  in  their  retaliation  upon  several 

*  Motley's  Dutch  Republic. 


260  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

places  in  his  possession.  As  Sidney's  name  is 
not  mentioned  in  connection  with  these  events, 
we  infer  that  he  was  engaged  elsewhere.  In  the 
month  of  June,  however,  in  concert  with  the 
young  Prince  Maurice,  of  Nassau,  he  took  the 
town  of  Axell,  by  a  well-conducted  surprise,  and 
his  discretion  on  that  occasion  furnishes  an  evi 
dence  of  what  he  might  have  achieved  as  a 
military  commander,  had  his  life  been  spared. 
Previous  to  the  attack,  he  drew  up  his  soldiers  in 
battle  array,  and  addressed  them  in  a  strain  of 
eloquence  which,  says  the  enthusiastic  chronicler, 
"  did  so  link  their  minds  that  they  did  desire 
rather  to  die  in  that  service  than  to  live  in  the 
contrary."  He  appealed  to  their  Protestant  zeal 
— for  party  fervor,  it  must  be  remembered,  was 
then  religious,  as  well  as  military  and  political — 
to  their  loyalty,  as  subjects  of  a  mighty  Queen, 
to  their  pride,  as  sons  of  a  glorious  land,  to  their 
bravery,  as  men  unfearing,  in  a  noble  cause,  both 
danger  and  death. 

The  attack  was  made  under  the  protecting 
darkness  of  night,  and  Sir  Philip,  with  a  tact 
that  reminds  us  of  a  Scipio  or  a  Polybius,  re 
vived  the  discipline  of  the  Roman  legion. 

In  silence  and  order  the  little  band  marched, 
unheard,  to  the  very  walls  of  Axell,  and  scaled 
them  by  ladders,  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man; 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  261 

and  while  a  chosen  phalanx  planted  itself  in  the 
broad  market  square,  the  rest  secured  the  garri 
son,  and  took  possession  of  the  public  buildings. 
When  the  service  was  achieved,  Sir  Philip  liber 
ally  rewarded  them  from  his  private  purse.* 

About  this  time  the  Duke  of  Parma  laid  siege 
to  Rhineberg,  an  important  post  which  the  States 
were  extremely  solicitous  to  retain.  Leicester 
determined  at  last  upon  some  decisive  stroke 
which  should  satisfy  his  confederates ;  but,  not 
venturing  with  his  inferior  numbers  upon  an 
engagement,  he  directed  his  forces  to  the  assault 
of  Zutphen,  a  strong  town  in  Guelderland,  whose 
resistance  to  the  Duke  of  Alba,  fourteen  years 
before,  had  been  avenged  by  the  command  to 
his  soldiery  not  to  leave  a  man  alive,  or  a  single 
house  unburned.  The  horrors  that  followed  this 
atrocious  order  seem  incredible,  even  in  the  an 
nals  of  that  sanguinary  day.  The  garrison  were 
put  to  the  sword  without  a  moment's  warning, 
and  life  was  wellnigh  extinguished  in  the  city. 

*  Fulke  Greville's  Life  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  It  appears 
from  letters  found  in  Wright's  and  Ellis's  Collections  that 
Sir  Philip's  munificence  sometimes  occasioned  him  serious 
embarrassment.  He  complains  to  Hatton,  in  1581,  of  being 
deeply  involved  in  debt,  and,  after  his  death,  Walsingham 
wrote  to  Leicester  that  he  must  pay  £6000  on  his  account, 
adding,  however,  "  I  weigh  it  nothing  in  respect  of  the  loss 
:>f  the  gentleman  who  was  my  chiefe  worldly  comforte." 


262  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

Five  hundred  burghers  were  tied  together  in 
pairs,  and  drowned  in  the  river  Yssel ;  the  fugi 
tives  were  caught  and  hung  upon  the  gallows, 
until  released  by  death  from  their  tortures.  And 
though  the  wail  of  agony,  "  a  sound  as  of  a 
mighty  massacre,"  was  heard  far  beyond  the  city, 
the  terrified  listeners  dared  not  approach  for  days 
after  its  doom  was  sealed.* 

The  English  troops,  comprising  7000  foot  and 
1400  dragoons,  encamped  before  Zutphen,  in  the 
month  of  September,  having  first  obtained  pos 
session  of  the  little  town  of  Doesberg,  seven  miles 
distant.  The  Governor  had  sent  word  to  the 
Duke  of  Parma  of  his  inability  to  sustain  a  siege, 
from  the  want  of  both  provisions  and  ammuni 
tion.  Had  Leicester  immediately  secured  certain 
passes  by  which  the  city  was  entered,  it  must  of 
necessity  have  surrendered ;  but  here  was  another 
proof  of  the  military  incapacity  which  marked 
this  whole  campaign.  Parma  hastily  raised  the 
siege  of  Rhineberg,  and  marched  his  forces  to  the 
relief  of  Zutphen ;  sending  in  advance  the  Italian 
cavalry,  under  the  Marquis  del  Guasto,  with  tem 
porary  supplies.  On  the  night  of  the  21st,  a 
portion  of  them  were  conveyed  without  difficulty 
into  the  town,  and,  though  the  dawn  broke  before 

*  Motley's  Dutch  Republic. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  263 

the  labor  was  completed,  the  Marquis  resolved  to 
hazard  its  continuance. 

It  was  a  chill,  gray  morning.  The  fog  rolled 
heavily  up  from  the  banks  of  the  Yssel,  and  flung 
its  spectral  mantle  over  the  beleaguered  city  and 
the  white  tents  of  the  besiegers. 

u  Their  camp  lay  on  the  shadowy  hill,  all  silent  as  a  cloud ; 
Its  very  heart  of  life  stood  still — and  the  white  mist  brought 

its  shroud ; 

For  Death  was  walking  in  the  dark,  and  grimly  smiled  to  see 
How  all  was  ranged  and  ready  for  his  sumptuous  jubilee."  * 

The  Italian  and  Spanish  cavalry,  3000  in  num 
ber,  conducted  by  Del  Guasto  and  several  distin 
guished  officers,  were  suddenly  encountered  by 
500  of  the  English  cavalry,f  under  the  command 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  and  Sir  John  Norris.  The 
former  were  driven  back  by  a  furious  onset,  but 
rallying  to  the  charge,  a  combat  ensued  so  ardent 
and  impetuous  on  both  sides,  that  its  very  name 
was  long  after  a  proverb  in  the  land.  Robert 

*  Gerald  Massey. 

f  This  is  Stowe's  account,  but  in  the  "  Histoire  des  Pro 
vinces  Unies,  par  Leclerc,"  tome  i.  p.  128,  we  are  told  that 
the  English  numbered  1500  infantry  and  200  cavalry. 

A  full  narration  of  this  engagement  is  also  found  in  the 
"  Historische  Beschreibung  dess  Niederlandischen  Kriegs ; 
vom  Jahr  1560  biss  auff  1620,  durch  Emanuel  von  Meteren. 
Amsterdam  1627,"  page  531.  i 


264  THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

Sidney  performed  such  prodigies  of  valor  that 
he  was  knighted  on  the  field;  Sir  William  Russel 
charged  so  terribly  with  spear  and  curtelax  that 
"  the  enemy  reported  him  to  be  a  devil  and  not  a 
man ; "  young  Essex  shouted,  as  he  threw  his 
lance  upon  the  first  assailant,  "  For  the  honor  of 
England,  my  fellows,  follow  me !  "  Lord  Wil- 
loughby,  Lord  North,  and  many  others,  earned 
great  distinction.  But  foremost  in  the  hot  affray, 
where  loudest  rang  the  clash  of  steel  and  deadly 
fire  of  arquebuse  and  musket,  wherever  the 
wounded  fell,  the  timorous  faltered,  or  the  hostile 
host  was  fiercest,  there  glittered  the  gilded  armor 
of  our  gallant  Sidney — as  he  spurred  his  white 
charger  through  the  storm  of  buUets,  now  to 
encounter  a  fiery  foe,  anon  to  save  a  friend  im 
perilled  by  unequal  numbers.  Two  horses  were 
shot  beneath  him,  and  he  quickly  mounted 
a  third.  Just  as  the  Spanish  cavalry  were  giv 
ing  way,  he  saw  Lord  Willoughby  surrounded 
by  the  enemy,  and  in  imminent  danger.  Dash 
ing  over  the  prostrate  slain — he  rescued  his  friend, 
but  was  himself  struck  by  a  musket-ball  which 
entered  the  left  thigh,  a  little  above  the  knee, 
dreadfully  fracturing  the  bone,  and  riving  the 
muscles  far  upward  toward  the  body.*  He  was 

*  It  is  said  that  he  had  left  the  camp  in  full  armor,  but 
meeting  the  Marshal  lightly  armed,  had  divested  himself  of 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  265 

instantly  borne  from  the  fatal  spot,  and  a  mes 
senger  carried  the  sad  tidings  to  Lord  Leicester. 
Men  who  had  that  day  encountered  the  King  of 
Terrors  with  undaunted  eye,  wept  as  they  heard 
that  the  price  of  victory  must  be  the  death  of 
Sidney.  "O  Philip  I"  cried  the  Earl,  in  the 
touching  plaint  of  grief,  "  /  am  sorry  for  thy 
hurt  I"  "This  have  I  done,"  replied  the  wound 
ed  hero,  "  to  do  you  honor,  and  Her  Majesty 
service."  In  death,  as  in  life,  he  served,  not  him 
self,  but  his  country  and  his  friends.  With  tears 
of  sorrow,  Sir  William  Russel  kissed  his  hand 
and  said,  "  O  noble  Sir  Philip,  there  was  never 
any  man  attained  hurt  more  honorably  than  you 
have  done,  or  any  served  like  unto  you." 

And  here  we  have  arrived  at  one  of  the  last 
and  most  beautiful  acts  of  a  beautiful  career. 
We  record  once  more  the  story  which  has  floated 
down  on  the  echoing  voices  of  almost  three  hun 
dred  years,  and  with  its  sweet  lesson  still  thrills 
the  soul  of  childhood  and  quickens  the  pulse  of 
age.  As  he  was  borne  from  the  field  of  action, 
faint,  pallid,  and  parched  with  the  thirst  that 
attends  excessive  loss  of  blood,  Sidney  asked  for 
water.  It  was  obtained,  doubtless,  with  difficulty 

his  greaves ;  an  act,  which  some  of  his  biographers  consider 
a  proof  of  courage,  and  others  have  censured  for  its  indis- 
;retion. 


266  THE   L1FE   AND   TIMES   OF 

and  in  scant  supply.  With  trembling  hand  he 
raised  the  cup  to  his  lips,  when  his  eye  was  ar 
rested  by  the  gaze  of  a  dying  soldier,  longingly 
fixed  upon  the  precious  draught.  Without  tast 
ing,  he  instantly  handed  it  to  the  sufferer,  with 
the  memorable  words,  "Thy  necessity  is  greater 
than  mine  !  "  * 

The  affection  of  Leicester  for  his  nephew  was 

*  This  incident  was  the  subject  of  a  painting  by  Benjamin 
West,  a  description  of  which,  taken  from  Zouch's  Life  of 
Sidney,  we  here  insert : 

"  The  centre  of  this  composition  is  occupied  by  the  wounded 
hero,  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  seated  on  a  litter,  who,  while  his 
wound  is  dressing  by  the  attending  surgeons,  is  ordering  the 
water  (which  is  pouring  out  for  him  to  allay  the  extreme 
thirst  he  suffered  from  the  loss  of  blood)  to  be  given  to  a 
wounded  soldier,  to  whom  he  points,  in  the  second  group  to 
his  right,  who  had  cast  a  longing  look  toward  it.  Behind,  and 
to  the  left  of  Sidney,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  in  dark  armor,  is 
discovered  as  commander  in  chief,  issuing  his  orders  to  the 
surrounding  cavalry,  as  engaged  in  the  confusion  of  the  con 
tending  armies.  Among  the  several  spirited  war-horses  that 
are  introduced,  that  of  Sidney,  a  white  horse,  is  seen  under 
the  management  of  his  servant,  but  still  restive  and  ungovern 
able.  The  portrait  of  the  artist  is  found  to  the  right  of  the 
picture,  the  figure  leaning  on  a  horse  in  the  foreground,  and 
contemplating  the  interesting  scene  before  him.  The  back 
ground,  and  to  the  extreme  distance  of  the  horizon,  the 
movements  of  the  armies,  and  the  rage  of  battle  are  every 
where  visible,  enveloped  in  an  atmosphere  that  has  fixed  upon 
it  the  true  aspect  of  danger  and  dismay." 


SIR   PHILIP   SIDNEY.  267 

the  redeeming  point  in  his  character.  In  the 
simple  language  of  sincere  distress,  he  wrote,  the 
day  after  the  battle  : — 

"  This  young  manne,  he  was  my  greatest  corn- 
forte,  next  her  Majestie,  of  all  the  worlde,  and  if 
I  could  buy  his  lieffe,  with  all  I  have,  to  my  sherte, 
I  would  give  yt.  How  God  will  dispose  of  him 
I  know  not,  but  feare  I  must  needes  greatly  the 
worste ;  the  blow  in  so  dangerous  a  place  and  so 
great;  yet  did  I  never  hear  of  any  manne  that 
did  abide  the  dressinge  and  settinge  of  his  bones 
better  than  he  did.  And  he  was  carried  after 
wards  in  my  barge  to  Arnheim,  and  I  heare  this 
day  he  ys  still  of  good  hearte,  and  comforteth  all 
aboute  him  as  much  as  may  be.  God  of  his 
mercie  graunt  me  his  lieffe,  which  I  cannot  but 
doubt  of  greatly.  I  was  abrode  that  time  in  the 
fielde,  givinge  some  order  to  supplie  that  business, 
which  did  indure  almost  twoe  owres  in  continuall 
fighte,  and  meetinge  Philip  commynge  on  horse- 
backe,  not  a  little  to  my  greafe. — Well,  I  praye 
God,  yf  it  be  his  will,  save  me  his  lieffe ;  even  as 
well  for  her  Majestie's  service  sake,  as  for  myne 
own  comforte." 

The  utmost  art  of  the  imperfect  surgery  of  the 
time  was  bestowed  upon  the  illustrious  patient, 
and  the  devoted  care  of  Lady  Sidney  and  several 
friends  attended  him  during  the  sixteen  days  that 


268  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

intervened  until  his  death.  Hopes  of  his  recovery 
were  at  first  encouraged,  but  the  bullet,  which 
was  supposed  to  have  been  poisoned,  could  not 
be  extracted.  The  solicitous  inquiries  that  were 
constantly  sent  from  both  Belgium  and  England, 
proved,  if  proof  were  needed,  how  highly  his  life 
was  prized ;  and  Count  Hohenlo  exclaimed  with 
the  blunt  fervor  of  a  soldier  to  the  surgeon  who 
expressed  his  apprehension  of  a  fatal  result, 
"Away,  villain,  never  see  my  face  again,  till  thou 
bring  better  news  of  that  man's  recovery,  for 
whose  redemption  many  such  as  I  were  happily 
lost." 

Sir  Philip  seems  to  have  been  visited  from  the 
first  with  premonitions  of  his  death ;  but  the 
messenger  from  the  spirit  land  came  to  him,  not 
as  a  spectre  of  fear,  but  as  an  angel  of  hope. 
Through  suffering  so  extreme  that  even  the  bones 
of  the  shoulder  were  worn  through  the  skin,  he 
was  patient,  placid,  and  loving ;  so  tranquil,  in 
deed,  that  he  wrote  a  long  letter  to  an  eminent 
divine  in  pure  and  elegant  Latin,  composed  an 
ode,  (unfortunately  not  preserved,)  on  the  ap 
proach  of  dissolution,  discoursed  at  length  and 
with  argumentative  clearness  on  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  and  dictated  his  will  with  minute 
remembrance  of  all  his  friends  and  servants.* 

*  Of  that  instrument  Sir  Fulke  Greville  says,  "  This  will  of 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  262 

With  the  undoubting  confidence  of  religious 
faith,  he  imputed  the  fatal  disaster,  not  to  chance, 
but  to  the  immediate  ordinance  of  the  Creator; 
and  not  only  expressed  entire  resignation,  but 
even  avowed  himself  grateful  for  sufferings 
"  which  should  profit  him  whether  he  lived  or 
died."  "  Love  my  memory,"  said  he  to  his  af 
flicted  brother,  "  cherish  my  friends ;  their  faith 
to  me  may  assure  you  that  they  are  honest.  But, 
above  all,  govern  your  will  and  affections  by  the 
will  and  word  of  your  Creator,  in  me  beholding 
the  end  of  this  world  with  all  its  vanities." 

There  is  a  simple  and  touching  little  sketch  of 
his  last  illness,  written  by  his  chaplain,  who  was 
his  constant  attendant  during  its  continuance.  It 
is  still  preserved  in  the  British  Museum,  and 
quoted  at  length  by  Dr.  Zouch,  and  we  are  confi 
dent  that  a  few  brief  extracts  cannot  fail  to  be  of 
interest : — 

"  The  night  before  he  died,  towards  the  morn 
ing,  I  asked  him  how  he  did.  He  answered,  '  I 
feel  myself  more  weak/  '  I  trust,'  said  I,  *  you 
are  well,  and  thoroughly  prepared  for  death,  yf 

his  will  ever  remain  for  a  witness  to  the  world  that,  even 
dying,  those  sweet  and  large  affections  in  him  could  no  more 
be  contracted  with  the  narrowness  of  pain,  grief,  or  sickness, 
than  any  sparkle  of  our  immortality  can  be  privately  buried 
in  the  shadows  of  death." 


270  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

God  shall  call  you.'  At  this  he  made  a  little 
pause,  and  then  he  answered,  '  I  have  a  doubt; 
pray  resolve  rne  in  it.  I  have  not  slept  this 
night ;  I  have  verie  earnestlie  and  humblie  be 
sought  the  Lord  to  give  me  some  sleep  ;  he  hath 
denied  it;  this  causeth  me  to  doubt  that  God 
doth  not  regard  me,  nor  heare  any  of  my  prayers ; 
this  doth  trouble  me.'  Answer  was  made  that, 
for  matters  touching  salvation  or  pardon  of  our 
sins  through  Christ,  he  gave  an  absolute  promise ; 
but,  for  things  concerning  this  life,  God  hath 
promised  them  but  with  caution  ;  that  which  he 
hath  absolutely  promised  we  may  assuredly  look 
to  receive,  craving  in  faith  that  which  he  hath 
thus  promised.  '  I  am,'  said  he,  *  fully  satisfied, 
and  resolved  with  this  answer.  No  doubt  it  is 
even  so ;  then  I  will  submit  myself  to  his  will  in 
these  outward  things.'  He  added,  farther,  '  I  had 
this  night  a  trouble  in  my  mynd ;  for,  searching 
myself,  methought  I  had  not  a  full  and  sure  hould 
of  Christ.  After  I  had  continued  in  this  perplex 
ity  awhile,  how  strangelie  God  did  deliver  me ! 
There  came  to  my  remembrance  a  vanity  in 
which  I  delighted,  whereof  I  had  not  rid  myself. 
I  rid  myself  of  it,  and  presently  my  joie  and 
comfort  returned.' — Within  a  few  hours  after,  I 
told  him  that  I  thought  his  death  did  approach, 
which  indeed  he  well  perceived,  and  for  which  he 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  271 

prepared  himself.  His  fear  that  death  would  take 
away  his  understanding  did  continue.  '  I  doe,' 
said  he,  'with  trembling  hart,  most  huinblie  in- 
treat  the  Lord  that  the  pangs  of  death  may  not 
be  so  grievous  as  to  take  away  my  understanding.' 

"  It  was  proved  to  him  by  testimonies  and  in 
fallible  reasons  out  of  the  Scriptures,  that,  al 
though  his  understanding  and  senses  should  fail, 
yet  that  faith,  which  he  had  now,  could  not  fail, 
but  would  hold  still  the  power  and  victory  before 
God.  At  this,  he  did  with  a  chearful  and  smiling 
countenance  put  forth  his  hand,  and  slappt  me 
softlie  on  the  cheeks.  Not  long  after,  he  lifted 
up  his  eyes  and  hands,  uttering  these  words,  '  / 
would  not  chaunge  my  joye  for  the  empire  of  the 
worlde ;'  for  the  nearer  he  saw  death  approach, 
the  more  his  comfort  seemed  to  increase. — As 
the  light  of  a  lamp  is  continued  by  pouring  in 
of  oyl,  so  he  sought  to  have  the  burning  zeal 
and  flame  of  his  prayer,  upon  which  his  heart 
was  still  bent,  cherished  by  the  comforts  of  the 
holy  word ;  accounting  it  a  great  injury,  if  we 
did  not  seek  to  give  wings  to  his  faith  to  carry 
up  his  prayers  speedily,  uttering  grief  when  he 
felt  any  thought  interrupting  him. 

"  Having  made  a  comparison  of  God's  grace 
now  in  him,  his  former  virtues  seemed  to  be 
nothing;  for  he  wholly  condemned  his  former 


272  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF 

life.  *  All  things  in  it,'  said  he,  *  have  been  vaine, 
vaine,  vaine.' 

"  It  now  seemed  as  if  all  natural  heat  and  life 
were  almost  utterly  gone  out  of  him,  that  his 
understanding  had  failed,  and  that  it  was  to  no 
purpose  to  speak  any  more  unto  him.  But  it 
was  far  otherwise.  I  spake  thus  unto  him  :  '  Sir, 
if  you  heare  what  I  saye,  let  us  by  some  means 
know  it,  and  if  you  have  still  your  inward  joye 
and  consolation  in  God,  hould  up  your  hand.' 
With  that,  he  did  lift  up  his  hand,  and  stretched 
it  forth  on  high,  which  we  thought  he  could 
scarce  have  moved,  and  it  caused  the  beholders 
to  cry  out  with  joy,  that  his  understanding  should 
be  still  so  perfect,  and  that  the  weak  body,  be 
yond  all  expectation,  should  so  readily  give  a 
sign  of  the  joye  of  the  soul.  After  this,  asking 
him  to  lift  up  his  hands  to  God,  seeing  he  could 
not  speak  or  open  his  eyes — that  we  might  see 
his  heart  still  prayed,  he  raised  both  his  hands, 
and  set  them  together  on  his  breast,  and  held 
them  upwards,  after  the  manner  of  those  which 
make  humble  petitions ;  and  so  his  hands  did 
remain,  and  even  so  stiff,  that  they  would  have 
so  continued  standing,  but  that  we  took  the  one 
from  the  other." 

A  little  before  his  death,  he  called  for  music; 
and  thus,  amid  the  harmonies  of  earth,  the  bene- 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  273 

dictions  of  love,  and  the  incense  of  prayer,  the 
spirit  of  Philip  Sidney  soared  to  the  spheres  of 
Mystery  and  of  Promise. 

It  was  on  the  17th  day  of  October,  and  his 
age  was  nearly  thirty-two.  In  life,  the  patriot, 
the  scholar,  the  pride  of  chivalry ;  in  death,  the 
hero,  the  philosopher,  and  the  Christian. 

When  a  nation  weeps,  the  sorrow  is  sincere, 
the  tribute  is  sublime.  England  bewailed,  with 
almost  unprecedented  sorrow,  the  loss  of  her 
most  promising  son.  The  higher  ranks  all  as 
sumed  the  garb  of  mourning,  and  for  many 
months  no  one,  at  Court  or  in  the  city,  appeared 
in  gay  attire, — an  honor  never  before  accorded 
to  a  private  individual.  The  Queen  expressed 
the  deepest  sorrow.  Lord  Buckhurst  wrote  to 
Leicester,  "  By  the  decease  of  that  noble  gentle 
man,  her  Majesty  and  the  whole  realm  do  suffer 
no  small  loss  and  detriment.  He  hath  had  as 
great  love  in  this  life,  and  as  many  tears  for  his 
death,  as  ever  any  had."  Du  Plessis  said  to 
Walsingham,  "  I  have  experienced  troubles  and 
disappointments  in  these  troublous  times,  but 
nothing  which  lay  heavier  upon  me,  nor  so  struck 
me  to  the  heart,  no  private  or  public  calamity 
which  ever  so  sensibly  affected  me.  I  bewail 
his  loss,  and  regret  him,  not  for  England  only; 
but  for  all  Christendom.1' 

18 


274  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF 

Even  the  flinty  heart  of  Philip  II.  was  softened 
for  an  instant,  as  he  prophetically  exclaimed, 
"  England  has  lost  in  one  moment  what  she 
may  not  produce  in  an  age  ; "  and  his  secretary, 
Mendoza,  remarked  that,  "  however  glad  he  was 
his  master  had  lost  an  enemy,  yet  he  could  not 
but  lament  to  see  Christendom  deprived  of  so 
rare  a  light  in  those  cloudy  times."  The  United 
Provinces  besought  the  privilege  of  his  burial, 
promising  to  raise  "  as  fair  a  monument  as  had 
any  prince  in  Europe,  yea,  though  it  should  cost 
half  a  ton  of  gold."  The  Queen  refused  the  re 
quest,  preferring  to  honor  the  memory  of  her  knight 
by  assuming,  herself,  the  expenses  of  a  magni 
ficent  funeral.  With  solemn  pomp  his  remains 
were  removed  to  Flushing,  and  thence  embarked 
for  England.  The  English  garrison,  twelve  hun 
dred  in  number,  headed  the  procession,  marching 
by  three  and  three,  their  halberts,  pikes,  and  en 
signs  trailing  on  the  ground.  Next  came  the  coffin 
covered  with  a  pall  of  velvet,  then  the  burghers 
of  the  town  in  deep  mourning,  slowly  and  sadly 
marching  to  the  sound  of  muffled  drums  and 
softly  breathing  fifes.  A  triple  volley  of  small 
shot  was  fired,  followed  by  two  discharges  from 
the  great  ordnance  about  the  walls.  "  And  so," 
says  the  Chronicle,  "they  took  their  leave  of 
their  well-beloved  governor."  His  honored  relics 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  275 

were  transported  in  a  pinnace  of  his  own,  whose 
"  sayles,  tackling,  and  other  furniture  were  col 
oured  blacke,  and  blacke  clothe  hung  round  her 
with  escuchions  of  his  arms,  and  she  was  accom 
panied  with  divers  other  shipps."  The  body  lay 
in  state  at  Aldgate  until  the  16th  of  February, 
when  it  was  deposited  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral, 
with  a  splendor  of  ceremonial  unparalleled, 
except  for  royalty.  The  Lord  Mayor  and  the 
Aldermen  on  horseback,  in  their  scarlet  gowns 
lined  with  ermine,  seven  representatives  of  the 
seven  United  Provinces  clothed  in  black,  several 
companies  with  their  insignia,  and  a  very  numer 
ous  train  of  citizens,  poured  the  tide  of  mournful 
homage  through  the  streets  of  London.  The 
pall  was  supported  by  the  Earls  of  Huntingdon, 
Essex,  Leicester,  and  Pembroke,  and  the  Barons 
Willoughby  and  North.  Sir  Robert  Sidney  was 
chief  mourner,  his  parents  having  both  died  a 
few  months  after  Sir  Philip  was  sent  to  Hol 
land.* 

Upon  a  pillar  in  the  choir  of  St.  Paul's,  there 

*  Sir  Philip  left  one  child,  a  daughter,  named  Elizabeth, 
who  was  said  to  inherit  much  of  her  father's  character.  She 
married  Roger  Manners,  fifth  Earl  of  Rutland,  and  died 
without  children.  Lady  Sidney  married  three  years  after 
her  husband's  death,  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  subsequently,  the 
Earl  of  Clanrickard. 


276  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF 

formerly  hung  a  tablet,  graven  with  the  following 
epitaph,  which,  it  is  now  believed,  was  written 
by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  :— 

"  England,  Netherlands,  the  heavens,  and  the  arts, 
The  soldier,  and  the  world,  have  made  six  parts 
Of  the  noble  Sidney,  for  none  will  suppose 
That  a  small  heap  of  stones  can  Sidney  inclose  • 
His  body  hath  England,  for  she  it  bred, 
Netherlands,  his  blood,  in  her  defence  shed  ; 
The  heavens  have  his  soul,  the  arts  have  his  fame, 
All  soldier's  the  grief,  and  the  world,  his  good  name." 

The  Universities  of  Cambridge  and  Oxford 
expressed,  in  three  volumes  of  adulatory  Greek 
and  Latin  verse,  their  esteem  and  sorrow.  An 
elegiac  plaint  from  James  of  Scotland,  swelled 
the  voice  of  universal  praise  ;  and,  it  is  said,  that 
more  than  two  hundred  noted  writers  have,  at 
different  times,  borne  testimony  to  his  merits. 
Camden  wrote  of  him  : — 

"  This  is  that  Sidney,  whom,  as  Providence 
seems  to  have  sent  into  the  world  to  give  the 
present  age  a  specimen  of  the  antients,  so  did  it 
on  a  sudden  recall  him,  and  snatch  him  from  us, 
as  more  worthy  of  heaven  than  of  earth.  Thus, 
when  virtue  is  come  to  perfection,  it  presently 
leaves  us,  and  the  best  things  are  seldom  lasting. 
Rest,  then,  in  peace,  O  Sidney,  if  I  may  be 


SIR   PHILIP   SIDNEY.  277 

allowed  this  address.  We  will  not  celebrate  thy 
memory  with  tears,  but  with  admiration.  What 
ever  we  loved  in  thee,  (as  the  best  author  speaks 
of  the  best  governor  of  Britain,)  whatever  we 
admired  in  thee  continues,  and  will  continue,  in 
the  memories  of  men,  the  revolutions  of  ages, 
and  the  annals  of  time.  Many,  as  inglorious  and 
ignoble,  are  buried  in  oblivion,  but  Sidney  shall 
live  to  all  posterity.  For,  as  the  Greek  poet  has 
it,  Virtue's  beyond  the  reach  of  Fate." 

Spenser  commemorated  his  patron  under  his 
poetical  appellation  of  Astrophel,  and  also  in 
two  Epitaphs,  which  contain  these  lines : — 

"  A  King  gave  thee  thy  name ;  a  Kingly  minde 
That  God  thee  gave,  who  found  it  now  too  deere 
For  this  base  world,  and  hath  resumde  it  neere, 
To  sit  in  skies,  and  sort  with  powers  divine. 
Kent  thy  birth-daies,  and  Oxford  held  thy  youth  ; 
The  heavens  made  haste,  and  staid  nor  years  nor  time  ; 
The  fruits  of  age  grew  ripe  in  thy  first  prime, 
Thy  will,  thy  words  ;  thy  words  the  scales  of  truth. 
Great  gifts  and  wisdom  rare  imployd  thee  thence, 
To  treat  from  Kings  with  those  more  great  than  Kings ; 
Such  hope  men  had  to  lay  the  highest  things 
On  thy  wise  youth,  to  be  transported  thence  ! 
******* 
What  hath  he  lost,  that  such  great  grace  hath  won  ? 
Young  years  for  endless  years,  and  hope  unsure 
Of  fortune's  gifts,  for  wealth  that  still  shall  dure ; 
Oh  !  happy  race  with  so  great  praises  run  ! " 
18* 


278  THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF 

Thomson  has  enshrined  the  memory  of  Sir 
Philip,  in  his  harmonious  verse : — 

"  Nor  can  the  Muse  the  gallant  Sidney  pass, 
The  plume  of  war  !  with  early  laurels  crowned, 
The  lover's  myrtle,  and  the  poet's  bay." 

Campbell  bestowed  a  tribute  of  united  praise 
upon  Sidney  and  Spenser : — 

"  The  man  that  looks  sweet  Sidney  in  the  face, 
Beholding  there  love's  truest  majesty, 
And  the  soft  image  of  departed  grace, 
Shall  fill  his  mind  with  magnanimity ; 
There  may  he  read  unfeigned  humility, 
And  golden  pity,  born  of  heavenly  flood, 
Unsullied  thought  of  immortality, 
And  musing  virtue,  prodigal  of  blood  : 
Yes,  in  this  map  of  what  is  fair  and  good, 
This  glorious  index  of  a  heavenly  book, 
Not  seldom,  as  in  youthful  years  he  stood, 
Divinest  Spenser  would  admiring  look, 
And  framing  thence  high  wit  and  pure  desire, 
Imagined  deeds  that  set  the  world  on  fire." 

"  Sidney  trod,"  says  the  author  of  the  Effigiae 
Poeticss,  "  from  his  cradle  to  his  grave,  amid  in 
cense  and  flowers,  and  died  in  a  dream  of  glory." 

It  is  needless  to  dilate  upon  the  talents  and  the 
virtues  of  Philip  Sidney;  equally  needless,  and 
more  perplexing,  to  attempt  further  selection  from 
the  oblations  that  have  been  profusely  thrown 


SIR   PHILIP   SIDNEY.  979 

upon  his  shrine.  By  the  consenting  acclaim  of 
all  his  contemporaries,  by  the  impartial  voice  of 
succeeding  ages,  even  by  the  critical  fiat  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  he  stands  in  the  Pantheon  of 
Fame,  But  to  the  world  at  large,  he  stands  there 
rather  as  a  luminous,  half-defined  phantom,  than 
as  a  sculptured  form ;  and  many  marvel  that  a 
man  whose  years  were  few,  whose  achievements 
were  of  no  startling  greatness,  whose  words 
created  no  era  in  thought,  is  encircled  with 
a  halo,  which  neither  melts  before  Time,  nor  is 
dimmed  by  a  brightening  civilization.  We  be 
lieve  that  the  solution  is  twofold.  In  the  first 
place,  he  was  the  representative  of  the  finest 
features  of  his  country  and  his  age.  Under  happy 
coincidences  of  nature  and  of  education,  he  em 
bodied  and  idealized  the  patriotism,  the  piety,  the 
intellectual  activity,  the  practical  energy,  and  the 
romantic  knight-errantry,  for  which  Europe,  and 
especially  England,  was  at  that  time  distin 
guished.  He  seemed,  besides,  to  be  a  connecting 
link  between  the  ancient  cavalier  and  the  modern 
gentleman,  blending  in  focal  beauty  the  martial 
valor,  the  ceremonious  courtesy,  the  religious  de 
votion  of  the  one,  with  the  culture,  the  refine 
ments,  and  the  lofty  independence  of  the  other. 

The  prestige  that  attends  him  is  farther  heigh 
tened  by  the  harmony  of  his  social  and  spiritual 


280  THE   LIFE   A^D   TIMES    OF 

nature.  It  is  the  homage  that  mankind  univer 
sally  pays  to  that  consistent  goodness,  which, 
emanating  from  an  aspiring,  well-balanced  soul, 
atmospheres  the  life  with  depths  as  pellucid  and 
serene  as  those  of  an  Egyptian  sky.  We  view 
his  character  from  every  side  with  satisfaction; 
and  so  perfect  are  its  proportions,  that  we  forget 
their  individual  dignity,  in  admiration  of  their 
concentred  beauty.  Generous  and  genial,  pos 
sessing  an  inherent  nobility  that  lifted  him  far 
above  the  littleness  of  envy  and  deceit,  his  com 
mon  and  daily  acts  impressed  men  with  his  sin 
cerity  and  his  justice.  His  conversation  and  his 
writings  not  only  revealed  the  affluence  of  a  well- 
stored  mind,  they  were  the  lofty  utterances  of 
one  who  dwelt  amid  the  Alpine  peaks  of  thought. 
The  heroism,  the  purity,  the  spiritual  beauty  that 
he  portrayed,  were  the  echoes  of  a  soul  that  an 
swered  but  to  the  inspiration  of  Truth.  Even  his 
fault — we  are  constrained  to  use  the  singular — 
that  of  a  somewhat  impetuous  temper,  was  the 
mere  effervescence  of  an  intense  nature,  and 
scarcely  detracted  from  his  essential  consistency. 

"  We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs, 
Not  by  hours  upon  a  dial.     He  most  lives, 
Who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  best." 

Though  his  life  was  undistinguished  by  action, 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY.  281 

it  glowed  with  all  the  elements  of  greatness. 
In  his  embassy  to  Germany,  in  his  letter  to  the 
Queen,  in  his  conduct  in  Belgium,  and  on  the 
field  of  Zutphen,  we  see  the  germ  of  powers  that 
needed  but  time  and  occasion  for  an  unfolding, 
that  would  have  ranked  him  with  the  wisest  of 
statesmen,  the  most  renowned  of  soldiers.  Never 
theless,  it  is  by  the  attraction  of  character,  rather 
than  by  the  grandeur  of  deeds,  or  the  splendor  of 
genius,  that  the  fame  of  Philip  Sidney  retains  its 
vitality.  No  hours  of  indolence  or  of  folly  left 
their  blank  record  upon  his  tomb ;  the  daily  and 
hourly  culture  of  taste,  of  knowledge,  and  of 
yirtue  graved  the  moral  of  a  life  which,  though 
brief  in  years,  was  fruitful  in  those  results  which 
give  to  life  at  once  its  beauty  and  its  reward. 


THE  END. 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-70m-9,'65(F7151s4)458 


N2  401795 

Davis,  S.M.H. 
The  life  and 
times  of  Sir 
Philip  Sidney. 


DA358 
S5 
D2 
1859 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


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